The Imperial Daddy
by CzarThwomp
Summary: Inga Karkhuul Khura'in constantly tries to show the world that he is a powerful, fearless man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants- which is for the most part true, but deep down he's just a big softie. A series of one-shots depicting Rayfa's childhood with Inga. Rated T for slightly more mature themes in later chapters.
1. Give Me My Cookies!

**Disclaimer: The "Ace Attorney" franchise is property of Capcom. I, the writer of this fanfic, do not own the characters of this series or am associated with the company in any way, shape, or form in regards to this non-profit, non-canon fanfic.**

 **A/N:** I have been playing through "Turnabout Revolution" as of recently and I noticed that Inga and Rayfa had an off-screen father/daughter relationship that rivals even the likes of Phoenix and Trucy's in terms of cuteness. That's why, in celebration of the recent release of "Spirit of Justice" in the West, I'm going to write a series of short one-off stories depicting various fluffy moments between Rayfa and Inga at various points in time throughout Rayfa's life.

* * *

It was around midnight and all was silent in the opulent living quarters of the country's glorious, strong-willed ruler, Queen Ga'ran- except, of course, for the numerous members of her fiercely loyal Ga'ran Royal Guard that roam the palace's corridors without a single hint of subtly, yelling at the top of their lungs for all to hear as they patrol their posts. Sure, they could be a pain at times, but no one could doubt the extreme lengths that they'd go in order to protect their queen.

However, despite their vigilant watch over the dimly lit marble corridors of the palace, the guards were unable to detect little Rayfa, dressed in her "Plumed Punisher" jammies, as she snuck through the halls on her tiptoes like a ninja, taking cover behind a large potted plant or a stone statue whenever she was close to be discovered by a guard; lest tell her mother, who would not hesitate to punish her for sneaking out of her personal chambers past her bedtime.

After sneaking through the palace's maze-like hallways, the 10 year-old princess finally reached her destination: her mother's personal kitchen; and while Rayfa may have had a perfectly functional kitchen in her own living quarters, it lacked the delicious lemon-flavored Plumed Punisher cookies that her mother would keep in her own kitchen and give as a reward to the little princess whenever she did something right, such as properly performing a Divination Séance or having proper manners around important foreign nobles; but her mother would only give her a single cookie during those times. Her, Rayfa Padma Khura'in, royal priestess and future ruler of her nation; so if Rayfa wanted to indulge herself with at least three cookies, then that was just what she was going to do.

So, without any hesitation, Rayfa proudly and regally entered the kitchen, like a model strutting down the runway, only to stop in her tracks and let out a shocked gasp as she saw her father, dressed in his usual gold-colored satin pajamas, standing over one of the kitchen's many sinks, his back turned to her as he was scarfing something down as if it was the only food source for miles around.

"Father…!" Rayfa shrieked, putting a hand to her mouth as Inga quickly turned to face his daughter, his posture becoming as straight and stiff as an arrow.

"R-Rayfa, it's not what it looks like! I-" Inga regained his composure, reverting back to the strong, collected man that Rayfa saw when he was doing important business as the Minister of Justice. "Wait, why am I being defensive when you should be in bed? So run back to your room, daughter, before I inform your mother of this."

"But Father, I…" Rayfa paused, her face changing into a death glare, as she noticed her father holding a yellow bag of cookies with the Plumed Punisher's face on it. "See that you have been eating MY cookies!" Rayfa yelled at Inga, her face reddening as she held her stiffened hands in front of her, as if she was ready to strangle the life out her father, causing him to put his hands in front of his body as he pressed his back against the sink.

"N-Now Rayfa, it's not what it looks like… I- I was merely…" Inga rubbed his chin as he thought of a plausible answer that wouldn't earn him one of Rayfa's infamous temper tantrums. "Making sure that there were no loose crumbs in the bag. Yes, that's it! You know how much your mother hates loose crumbies getting on the floor." Inga said with a big grin on his face, proud of his quick-thinking.

"Don't try to deceive me, Father! I can see the evidence of your deed most foul by the crumbs on your face!" Rayfa snarled, pointing an accusing finger at the yellow crumbs around Inga's mouth and in his beard, which the Minister of Justice couldn't wipe off fast enough.

"That? Well…" Inga tried to think of another excuse, but found it rather hard to do so with his daughter growling at him, seething with rage as her left eye started to twitch, but realized that at this point he might as well just tell the truth.

Inga got down on one knee and softly put his hand on Rayfa's shoulder before letting out a sigh of defeat. "Fine, you got me, Rayfa. I was enjoying some of your Plumed Punisher cookies."

"Bu-But why my cookies?" Rayfa whimpered as a lone tear of betrayal trailed down her cheek.

"Look Rayfa, if you want to blame someone, blame your mother. If she would just let me have junk food in my own private kitchen, then I wouldn't have to sneak around here like a thief and scrounge up what little I can find."

"But you're the biggest, strongest, smartest, nicest man in the whole, wide world AND the Minister of Justice. Why would mother restrict your diet so?" Rayfa asked with a look of confusion, unable to grasp how any being, save the Holy Mother herself, could control her mighty father.

Inga blushed at his daughter's compliments and let out a hearty chuckle. "That may be, Rayfa, but that doesn't stop your mother from exerting her queenly authority over me by constantly saying that I'll get love handles and will look unfit to be her husband. But it doesn't hurt to partake in a little treat once in a while, and what your mother doesn't know won't hurt us, right?"

"Right!" Rayfa chirps with a nod.

Inga patted his daughter's head. "That's my girl! Now what do you say we enjoy some cookies?" Inga asked, extending the bag of cookies over to Rayfa, which she answered by taking one out; but before she could eat it, Inga grabbed her arm.

"Before we start eating, let's move over to the sink. I don't want your mother sending us to the Twilight Realm over loose crumbies getting on the floor." Inga suggested, prompting him and Rayfa to move over the sink before devouring each and every cookie in the bag in no time flat.

With their deed done, Inga and Rayfa quickly threw away the empty cookie bag in a nearby trashcan before turning off the kitchen lights and quietly sneaking back into the hallway so as to return to their private quarters undetected. However, they do not get far before they hear a series of soft, yet forceful, footsteps from the other side of a nearby corner that are slowly growing louder.

"Oh Husband, oh Daughter, we had better not find either of you pilfering food from our kitchen and leaving crumbies on the floor; for you know what will happen if we do…" Ga'ran coldly yelled out, almost as if she had some internal radar that told her what her family was doing and where they were doing it, as she loudly whacked the large paddle that she used during her time as a prosecutor against her hand.

Upon hearing this, both Inga and Rayfa's faces paled as they knew full-well that Ga'ran's paddle was not merely for show and actually packed quite a wallop if it hit bare flesh; causing them to abandon all aspects of stealth as they ran out of the palace as fast as humanly possible and back to their private quarters, lightly whimpering as they rushed past several Ga'ran Royal Guards who yelled "Hellooo, Minister Inga! Hellooo, Your Benevolence!" as if this was an everyday occurrence.

* * *

 **A/N:** For this fanfic, in order to avoid confusion regarding Inga's cognitive disorder, Rayfa's hair is always in its normal style so that he can easily recognize her. In regards to this first chapter, I hope that I did well and that you guys enjoyed it considering I don't write that many family fluff fanfics.


	2. Don't Mess with Papa Bear

**A/N:** Alright, I finally got the second chapter out. I really had a lot of fun writing this one, considering the topic. Anyways, I hope that you guys enjoy the newest chapter of "The Imperial Daddy"!

* * *

Inga was a man who came off as a man who feared nothing. Defense attorneys? Stamped them out, both literally and figuratively, thanks to the Defense Culpability Act. Dhurke and his Defiant Dragons? Inga spit on them as his secret police thinned their numbers and broke their spirits. Ga'ran's inhuman sex drive, dominatrix fetish, and wizard's sleeve as cold as her personality? Okay, that last one genuinely terrified Inga to his very core and resulted in too many night terrors to count- but that was a secret to everyone; though there was another thing that filled Inga with dread and angst, something that had haunted him since the day that he first laid eyes on his daughter, an evil more powerful and relentless than 10,000 Defiant Dragons combined: teenage boys.

That's right, the one fear shared by all fathers of daughters- disrespectful, odorous man-children-things with greasy, Cheeto-covered fingers and rat-moustaches bent on stealing their little girls' flowers before casting them off to the side like yesterday's trash. Inga could just imagine Dhurke, sitting on a throne of briars and human skulls, gazing upon his army of adolescent males and ordering them to take flight with their demon wings and take his beloved Rayfa away from him.

That's why ever since Rayfa turned 13, Inga had made it a point to station his secret police to guard all possible entrance points to the palace, in conjunction with the normal guards, to apprehend any teenaged boys encroaching on the grounds and alert him to their presence. If any snot-nosed punk wanted to make a move on the daughter of Inga Karkhuul Khura'in, they'd have to get passed his army of highly-trained officers first! Yes, with his police at the ready, Inga was sure that no boy would even think about looking in the same direction as his little girl- that is, until two o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon when he received a call from some of his officers reporting that they captured a young boy.

Upon hearing this news, Inga lividly threw down the papers that he was working on with a huff before being driven back to the palace, only to find upon arrival the officers who had called him earlier holding their guns to the head of a small, trembling boy wearing a white robe with a thin, light-blue coat over it, a beige bag covered with painted brown, orange, and green diamonds over his shoulder, and a tall, circular hat with the same design as his bag that partially covered his dark-brown hair.

"So boy, what are you doing wandering around the Royal Palace?" Inga sneered, leaning slightly forward as he gritted his teeth on his stamp in a show of authority.

The boy's posture stiffened like an arrow, his already-established terror compounded by the fearsome Minister of Justice glowering at him with a glare that could cut through steel. "I'm a monk-in-training who's planning a tour for the surrounding area. You see, Minister Inga, I'm also a tour guide who wishes-"

"To claim my daughter as if she was some trophy!?" Inga angrily interjected, his nostrils starting to flare.

"N… No, sir! I would never-" The boy stated with wide eyes, only to be interrupted by Inga again.

"What's your name, boy?" Inga snarled.

"A-Ahlbi Ur'gaid, sir." Ahlbi meekly stated as fast as the sentence could come out of his mouth.

"Ahlbi, as in Al, Al Pacino? Are you some punk whose gonna break my Rayfa like a TV after you've had your way with her!?"

"Had my way with her? What does that mean, sir?" Ahlbi asked as he cocked his head in confusion.

"Don't play dumb with me, Ahlbi! You know full well what it means: churning butter, the horizontal happy dance, feeding the kitty, having sex with and defiling my daughter!" Inga yelled.

"What's sex?" Ahlbi asked.

"Don't be flip with me, mini-monk, or I swear to the Holy Mother...!" Inga raised his fist in preparation to slam it down upon the young boy's head.

"But I'm only eight! There's lots of stuff that I don't know about!" Ahlbi objected.

"Oh, please! I may look it, but I was once your age, so I know what sick, perverted thoughts are swimming through your mind and that's why you won't even so much as hold my daughter's hand while I'm still kicking." Inga proclaims.

"Eww! Holding hands with a girl? That's gross!" Ahlbi winced at the thought of being romantic with a girl, as all young boys his age do.

"What!? You think that Rayfa's not good enough for you? Is that what you're telling me? That MY daughter, the crown princess of Khura'in, is not worthy of your time! Because I will have you know, mini-monk, that my daughter is the loveliest young woman in the entire world!" Inga yelled, his face as red as a ripe tomatoe.

"N-No! I think that Her Benevolence is a beautiful woman, honest! It's just-"

"Oh, so you admit that you want to molest my baby girl… AHHLLLBIIIIII…!?" Inga growled in a low tone as he bent down to look into the boy's terrified eyes with his steely gaze, getting within inches of Ahlbi's face.

Ahlbi started vigorously shaking his head. "No, sir! Not at all! I'd never even think of treating her like that!"

"Oh, so you think my think that my daughter's ugly!?" Inga yelled as his eyes went wide, ready to pounce on this whelp for even daring to think badly of his precious Rayfa.

"NOOOO!" Ahlbi screamed, tears welling up in his eyes as he realized all too late that there was no way of wining against Papa Bear, and that all he could do was stand there and take what was being thrown at him.

"Well, what is it, mini-monk? Are you attracted to Rayfa or not!?" Inga snarled.

"I don't know anymore...!" Ahlbi wailed, clutching his bag like one would a teddy bear, tears flowing down his reddened cheeks.

"Well you better tell me quickly," Inga snapped his fingers, summoning a servant holding his stack of execution papers, which he then proceeded to stamp in quick succession, like a machine, with a half-scowl, half-smile on his face. "Or I'll be sendin' you on a one-way trip to the Twilight Realm!"

At this point, even the two secret police officers, who had stopped holding Ahlbi at gunpoint since the mention of Al Pacino, who had sworn their eternal loyalty to Inga, were starting to feel sorry for the poor boy; but they knew that if they spoke up, they'd be the next entries on the execution list.

"What do you WANT me to do!?" Ahlbi screeched at the top of his lungs in a whinny, high-pitched voice as his entire body started to violently shake like a leaf in the wind.

"Simple. I don't want you to ever think of even EXISTING within 100 feet of my daughter; and if I see any signs otherwise, I'll dedicate my life's work to ensuring that everything you hold dear in this world is violently ripped from your hands and destroyed before your very eyes before killing you in a slow and painful fashion! Then, I'll have Her Eminence send a message to the Holy Mother to bring you back to life every time that you die so that I can have you killed again and again and again an endless cycle of pain and misery. And you may think that once I'm dead, you'll be off the hook, right? WRONG! I'd have Her Eminence tell the Holy Mother ahead of time to bring me back to life every time that I die so that I can torture you for all eternity! Do I make myself clear, Ahl-ahl-ahl-Ahlbi…!?"

For a few seconds of awkward silence, which felt like eternity, Ahlbi, with sweat dripping down his face, just stared at Inga like a deer in headlights before turning around and hightailed it away from the Minister of Justice as fast as he could as his wails of terror filled the air.

"Uh, Minister Inga…" Inga turns to one of his two now-rattled officers, who were now shaking in their boots like wee children. "We have things covered here, so if you wish to head back out-"

"No," Inga returned his stamp to his mouth, where it was once more clenched by his jaw. "That brat made me too upset to go back out, so I'm gonna resume my work in my private quarters. You two keep up the good work and don't hesitate to call me if there's any more trouble, understood?"

The officers saluted Inga. "Yes, sir!"

* * *

After spending about 30 minutes in his private quarters, Inga could not seem to get any work done if his life depended on it. It wasn't as if he didn't want to- which in all honesty he didn't- he just couldn't get his mind off that brat, Ahlbi. What if he was only a taste of what's to come? Who was to say that the next boy that came by wouldn't be bigger, or stronger, or some crazed rebel in disguise? It wasn't like the good old days when the king and queen could pick the boy that their daughter married and everything turned out fine- nowadays, there were plenty of horror stories floating around about royal children marrying common folks. Inga couldn't risk his baby girl falling in love with and running off with some Defiant Dragon, or worse, some gaudy, infeminant rock star like that Klavier Gavin punk who was so popular in the States; what with his fake spray tan, loud, obnoxious motorcycle, and long hair that probably took all day to wash.

No, Inga had decided to put his foot down and establish an official list of rules so that the likes of Ahlbi and Klavier would be shaking in their boots at the mere mention of Rayfa's name; but Inga was never the law writer in the family- a duty falling upon his ice queen of a wife. So that was how for the second time during fatherhood, Inga resorted to using the internet for parenting advice.

Upon logging onto Google, Inga immediately typed in 'rules for dating my daughter', and upon seeing the first result, a large, diabolical grin spread across his face.

"Yes…" Inga sneered. "This is just what the Minister of Justice ordered…"

Nahyuta never liked it when Inga would call him to his private quarters due to the man's tendency of flying off the handle at any given moment, especially regarding Rayfa; not to mention, the place had a strange smell, one that could only be described as lemon and peppermint blended together in a septic tank, that would make Nahyuta sick to his stomach.

After saying a quick prayer to the Holy Mother to give him strength, Nahyuta opened the door to Inga's private quarters, where, much to his surprise, Inga was sitting back in his custom-made chair with a smug look on his face.

"You wanted to see me, Minister Inga?" Nahyuta calmly asked as he squeezed his rosary behind his back in fear of what would come out of the man's mouth.

"Yes, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi. You see, as Khura'in's top prosecutor and a man who knows much about emotional control, I thought you'd be the perfect person to read over some rules that I'm considering making into laws.

"And just what kind of rules do you want me to look over?"

Inga pulled out a packet of papers before handing them to Nahyuta. "They're rules pertaining to dating Rayfa. Go on, read 'em over and don't be afraid to say 'em out loud!" Inga chuckled with a proud grin on his face.

 _Holy Mother help me…_ "Rule number one: You do not touch my daughter in front of me or glance at her below the neck. If you fail to keep your hands and/or eyes off my daughter, I will remove them by force."

"Rule number two: If you wear your pants down low like some wannabe street punk, I'll tear them off and have you sentenced to life in prison for indecent exposure."

"Rule number three: Once you start to date my daughter, you are to only date her and no one else until she comes to her senses and realizes that you're not worth her time before throwing you to the curb. If you make my daughter cry, I will make you disappear. I'm serious; I have an entire police force to dispose of you with and an entire country's worth of land to hide your body in. Remember, kid, I'm the Minister of Justice and I WILL have justice."

"Rule number four: The following places are inappropriate for a date with my daughter: anywhere that is dark, movies with a romantic theme, and/or any places with happiness. However, the following places are appropriate: Game night at High Priest Tahrust Inmee's home, a visit to the police station, and/or anywhere that is within a 20 feet radius of my wife."

"Rule number five: I'm sure that you've been told that sex without any form of barrier method will kill you. Allow me to elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and if I catch you trying to do anything with my daughter, I will force you to watch a sex tape of me with my wife, which, trust me on this one, will make you want to kill yourself."

"Rule number six: As you stand outside the palace, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. My daughter is getting ready, a process that can take longer than building Amara's Tomb; so instead of just standing there, why don't you make yourself useful, like telling me all you know about Dhurke and his Defiant Dragons."

"Rule number seven: When I ask you when my daughter will be back at the palace, you will respond with 'early' and keep to that promise; otherwise, you'll be arriving at the Twilight Realm early, if you catch my drift."

"Rule number eight: If you remove my daughter's robe from her body, I will remove your soul from yours."

"Rule number nine: Be afraid; be very afraid. Given the current terror threat that is the Defiant Dragons, it takes very little for me to mistake the sound of a car pulling up to the palace or loud, sloppy footsteps for Dhurke and his goons staging an attack. As such, when you return to the palace with my daughter, slowly approach the entrance with your hands in plain sight, announce in a loud, clear, respectful tone that you have brought my daughter home safely, and quickly return from what foul pit that you crawled out from."

"Rule number ten…" Nahyuta raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Rule number ten: If you're name is Ahlbi Ur'gaid, don't even bother trying; because if you do, I will be true to my threats and much more...? Minister Inga, who is Ahlbi Ur'gaid and what drove you to single him out?"

"That's a story for another time, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi. So, are those rules an act of brilliance or what?" Inga smirked.

"Minister Inga, I-"

"Think they're great? Good! Take those papers to my wife and have her make 'em into laws. And if she refuses to do it, tell her that I'll do the…Twirl 'n Swirl tonight…" Inga said with a bit of hesitation at the last part.

"*sigh* Yes, Minister Inga." Nahyuta replied as left Inga's private quarters.

* * *

A few hours later, Inga was busy writing in his notepad, the newest contents reading: _Ahlbi Ur'gaid: Stupid hat. Stupid hair. Stupid blue robe. Stupid, whinny voice._ , when he was interrupted by Rayfa, who was holding a bouquet of flowers, entering his private quarters.

"Hello, Father!" Rayfa chirped as she ran over to Inga, who was still seated, and squeezed his shoulders in a hug.

"Ah, Rayfa! I-" Inga's eyes widened into the size of saucers, the color draining from his face, at the sight of the bouquet in his daughter's hand. "Rayfa… who gave you that bouquet?"

Rayfa glanced at the flowers in her hand. "Oh, these? No one gave them to me…"

Inga breathed a sigh of relief.

"I bought them so that I could give them to the handsomest man that I know!" Rayfa cheerfully stated, causing Inga's face to redden.

"Who! Who are you seeing? Is it that punk Ahlbi!? I knew that boy was trouble from the moment that I laid eyes on him!" Inga bellowed.

"You've got it wrong, Father! I-"

Inga pulled out his cellphone and dialed in a number before yelling his orders to the person on the other end.

"This is Minister Inga! I want Alpha Squad to burn down the home of a brat named Ahlbi Ur'gaid! Oh, and make sure to plant a Defiant Dragon's armband on the premise when you've finished the deed. That way, we'll kill two birds with one stone!" Inga sneered as he ended the call. "There, Rayfa. Problem solved!"

"What problem, Father? I don't know anyone named Ahlbi."

"Then who are those flowers for?"

"Like I said, Father, they're for the handsomest man that I know: you!" Rayfa beamed as she handed the flowers to her father, who burst out laughing at the gesture.

"Can't say that I can fault you on that, dear. Now come here and sit on your father's lap…" Inga patted his leg, which Rayfa quickly complied with as her father brought her in close for a hug.

"Rayfa, can you do me a favor?" Inga whispered in a soft tone.

"Yes, Father?"

"Promise me that you'll never date until you're 30… or at least never date Ahlbi Ur'gaid."

"Yes, Father. I promise…"

* * *

 **A/N:** Inga's list of rules for dating Rayfa was based off the "Ten Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter" article online. If you want to see the actual list for yourself, type the phrase that Inga used in the story, "rules for dating my daughter", into your search engine and it should be the first link.

If it isn't obvious, I hate Ahlbi with a burning passion; mostly due to the fact that, in my personal opinion, he comes off as a more high-strung version of Maya (if such a thing is even possible) that is obsessed with tours and going Zinc Lablanc II on us with his desire for profits. I can say that there are good moments with Ahlbi, such as the incident with Edgeworth and Shah'do, but they are not enough to quell the rage in my heart whenever that brat comes on the scene. If you do like Ahlbi, then more power to you, enjoy him to your heart's content. I have nothing against you.


	3. Inga vs the Crimson Wave

**A/N:** Okay, here it is at long last- the next chapter of "The Imperial Daddy"! Even though the past few weeks have been filled with much stress with papers and exams, I've managed to channel my frustration into making Inga suffer with the pain and turbulence of Rayfa's journey into womanhood.

I would like to thank fellow Ace Attorney fanfic writer JordanPhoenix for her help in writing ACE's response to Inga's situation. If you like my material, then you'll like hers. So don't hesitate to check her out. In fact, ACE is Phoenix shortly after the events of a story of hers, "Potential Murder Suspect" (a.k.a. Chapter #42 of her other story, "Turnabout Everlasting"), which also deals with the 'joys' of the monthly visitor.

* * *

Inga's car sped up to the palace before he jumped out of the still-moving vehicle, Rambo style, and made a beeline dash towards the entrance of the large, imposing structure that he called home as if his very life depended on it… which in a sense it did.

* * *

It started out as a normal morning for Inga at the Department of Justice, occupied with his normal responsibilities- monitoring the Prosecutor's Office, hunting down Dhurke and his Defiant Dragons, stamping the seemingly-endless stream of execution papers that flooded his desk, etc.- when he received a phone call that shook him to his very core.

"Danger…! Her Benevolence…! Help…! Death is upon us…!" A young female voice yelled in terror before the call abruptly ended- which from the sound of things, was caused by her dropping the phone before it was crushed.

From the caller id, it was clear that it was one of the palace's servants calling; and from the sound of the call, it was clear that Rayfa was in danger. What in the Holy Mother's name this danger could be was irrelevant, for if his baby girl was in danger, Inga would not hesitate for even a second to jump into the situation and fight off the threat singlehandedly.

Thus, springing out of his chair like a jackrabbit, Inga ran out of his office as fast as his legs could carry him… but not before almost tripping over his cape like a scene out of a cartoon.

* * *

As Inga was about to enter the palace, he was knocked off his feet, both figuratively and literally, by the sheer magnitude of screaming, stampeding female servants thrusting open the heavy, opulent doors as they fled from the building; trampling the proud Minister of Justice like a piece of paper on the street.

Once the dust cleared, Inga, a man who could strike terror into the heart of even the toughest Khura'inese citizen, was left lying on his back, his arms and legs lifted into the air, twitching like a roach that has just been killed with a cloud of insect repellant, as Nayna calmly walked out of the palace. Not looking where she was walking, Nayna accidently stepped on Inga's stomach, causing him to let out a strained wheeze, prompting her to look down and see the infamous minister bruised and battered.

"Oh, Inga, I didn't see you down there. You know, maybe your back wouldn't hurt you so much if you didn't spend your mornings lying on the ground…" Nayna remarked with her normal sassy grin.

"I'm not in the mood for this, Amara." Inga growled as he glared up at the 'elderly' woman before him. "Help me up!"

Nayna complied, extending out her cane, which Inga grabbed the end of and used to hoist himself back up onto his feet.

"Amara! What's going on? Why are the servants in such an uproar!? Inga barked.

Nayna let out a long sigh before adjusting her glasses. "Inga, it was madness, utter madness… Only a total nincompoop would stay in that slaughterhouse after what I and the other servants have witnessed."

"But what of Rayfa? Is she safe?" Inga's eyes widened as he grabbed Nayna's shoulders and started shaking her back and forth. "I need answers, woman!"

Nayna calmly, yet swiftly, whapped Inga's hands with her cane, releasing his grip on her shoulders. "Oh, Rayfa's safe, alright; but in her current state, even the Holy Mother Herself couldn't help that girl… if she's still even human."

"Nonsense, Amara! I don't know about the Holy Mother, but if there's anyone out there who can save Rayfa in her time of need, it's me, her adoptive father!" Inga proudly proclaimed with a smug grin as he chomped down on his stamp, slightly leaning forward to show his confidence. "I've led the hunt against the Defiant Dragons, I've led the police against many a criminal, from petty thieves to serial killers, _and_ I've had sex with your sister and am still standing! I know no fear!"

"Yes Inga, that was truly a show of courage last week when you were crying like a baby and begging the Holy Mother to end your misery while Ga'ran 'pleasured' you in your private quarters." Nayna sneered, causing Inga's face to redden like a ripe tomato.

"Th-that doesn't count! It was Wednesday and she ambushed me, see!" Inga snarled. "Regardless, nothing's stopping me from getting in that palace and saving my daughter…! RAYFA!" Inga yelled as he pushed Nayna off to the side and rushed into the palace.

Watching Inga's mad dash, Nayna couldn't help but shake her head. "Nincompoop…" The 'elderly' woman mumbled to herself before leaving the palace grounds.

* * *

"RAYFA…! RAYFA…! Where are you!? Are you safe!?" Inga bellowed as he continued his search for his daughter.

As the minister's search continued, he couldn't help but grow worried by how it looked like every hallway in the palace was attacked by a bear- what with how there were discarded wrappers strewn about the floor, unfinished food products scattered willy-nilly, and how the walls were smeared with condiments, such as ketchup, mustard, relish, and… chocolate sauce? Who, or rather what, could cause such a mess?

And then it hit Inga like a sack of bricks. The chaos, the destruction, the wanton handling of foodstuffs… It all pointed to one possible cause: a Defiant Dragon attack on the palace- specifically one led by Dhurke's second-in-command, the very incarnation of gluttony himself, Datz Are'bal! Inga remembered how just last month, that deviant launched an attack on and devastated over half of Khura'in's apple orchards, leaving only broken branches and disgruntled farmers in his wake. And now this nutjob was in the palace endangering his baby girl?! Just what was he planning? To kidnap her? To torture her? To tell her the truth about her relation to Dhurke and steal her away from him!? Of all times for Ga'ran to be out of the nation on diplomatic duties… Even though Inga barely tolerated his wife, her insanely loyal Royal Guard was useful to have around for situations like this.

"Oh, where could Rayfa be…? Of course! Knowing my little girl, she's probably hiding in her private quarters. Don't worry, Rayfa, your father's coming!" Inga proclaimed as he sped up his pace even more to where if anyone saw him, he would appear as just a tall brown blur.

* * *

When Inga finally made it to the entrance of Rayfa's private quarters in the palace's courtyard, he felt a little better seeing that the door was locked, pointing to his daughter's safety; but he couldn't disregard the possibility of Datz taking Rayfa hostage and being held up in her private chambers. What if that psycho was squeezing his legs around Rayfa and was going to swallow her whole, like how an anaconda consumes a mouse!?

With a single phone call, Inga could have had his secret police at his location in a matter of seconds and they could have arrested that Are'bal punk in no time flat; but there was one thing that had kept Inga from making that decision from the very moment that he received that distress call: his pride. Sure, his secret police could do the job better than he ever could, but what would that show Rayfa? That he was the kind of guy to just let his goons take care of matters concerning his daughter? No, if his daughter was in danger, _he_ would be the one to save her. Sure, he despised Khura'in's matriarchal society and how it allowed intolerable witches like Ga'ran to lord over him, but Rayfa wasn't like that. If she ever became queen while he was alive, she'd be the type to give him just as much say in politics as she would have; because Rayfa was the only female in that entire damn royal family to not see him as an object to mock, like Amara, or, in the case of his despised wife, a hunk of man meat that's only good for pushing around and using to fulfil certain… urges; sick, disgusting urges that had sent at least three therapists running for the hills in the past year.

And so, with much courage, Inga did not hesitate in unlocking the door to Rayfa's private quarters with one of the many palace keys that he had on his person before storming the house.

Rayfa's living space would appear to most as having the feel of a beach house- a place where one could go to rest and escape the stresses of the world, but was too basic for one to want to spend every waking moment in. The house consisted of two floors: the ground level, which consisted of a basic, yet stylish, kitchen with pink floral print wallpaper consisting of a marble island counter with a few pink pub stools next to it, a refrigerator, and a few cabinets- Rayfa always begged her mother to have a stove and oven installed so that she could have more dietary options, but the queen always refused on the premise that a fire was how one member of the Royal family died and she didn't want to have that number double- as well as a small hallway that led to Rayfa's room and the stairs leading up to the next floor; and the upper level, which consisted of a small sunroom and a flower-filled balcony for Rayfa to go out on.

Though surprisingly, when Inga entered the kitchen, it was completely pristine, contrary to the disheveled state of the palace; but then again, the only foods that Ga'ran would allow Rayfa to own were fruits, vegetables, and Taste None cereal, the blandest tasting high-fiber cereal created by human hands that would be better used as mulch; and to add insult to injury, the picture on the front box featured smiling old ladies riding bikes. Who do these old bags think they're fooling being all happy while promoting that glorified wood? No one, that's who; but that wasn't important. Inga had to focus on saving his daughter from the evil clutches of Datz.

When Inga reached Rayfa's bedroom door, he found that it, too, was locked. Concerned, Inga lightly knocked on the door.

"Rayfa, it's your father. I just decided to stop by to visit you, and not at all because I heard that there was an attack on the palace. So do you mind opening the door so that I can see how my daughter, who is in no way being held hostage, is doing?" Inga asked unconvincingly before striking a praying mantis style kung fu pose.

Even a child could see through that request, but Inga figured that at the very least Dhurke's incompetent second-in-command would believe it and would play straight into his ingenious master plan: Operation Wait-for-Datz-to-Open-the-Door-and-then-Beat-the-Stuffing-Out-of-Him. But when a minute passed by with only complete silence, Inga lowered his guard and knocked on the door again.

"Rayfa, I don't know if you heard me, but can you, my daughter who is in no way being held hostage by a Defiant Dragon, open the door for me, your defenseless father who isn't wearing a cup?"

Upon making his request, Inga heard a faint moan of pain coming from inside the room, prompting him to unlock the door, which he always carried the key for, and burst into the room with clenched fists and a fierce glare.

"Get away from my daughter, you damn, dirty Defiant Dragon, or I'll-" Inga yelled before becoming overwhelmed with a feeling of confusion upon seeing neither hide no hair of any Defiant Dragons, yet seeing the room in a complete mess- clothes scattered on the floor, the curio cabinet used to store Rayfa's Plumed Punisher action figures tipped over, and the Plumed Punisher sheets on her bed piled up in a giant mound, and… and… A massive blood stain on the carpet next to the bed!?

 _Just what in the Holy Mother's name happened in here!?_ "Rayfa…?" Inga nervously asked, not knowing what would happen.

"Father…?" Rayfa asked in a tired tone.

Inga's eyes nervously darted around the room. "Rayfa, where are you?"

The minister flinched at seeing the pile of sheets start to shake, almost as if some creature was going to jump out, but calmed down at seeing his nine year-old daughter pop her head out from underneath the pile like a turtle emerging from its shell.

"Father… Why did you unlock the door…? I wanted it locked!" Rayfa growled, causing Inga to flinch at his normally calm, at least for him, daughter, who was glaring at him with daggers in her eyes.

Inga walked over to Rayfa and patted her on the head. "I'm sorry, Rayfa. I just heard from one of the servants that there was an issue at the palace, so I-"

"Oh, so that's how it is, Father!" Rayfa yelled loudly enough to cause Inga to quickly take a step back. "Who was it? That traitorous Nayna!? She can't do anything right and abandons me and you take _her_ side!? I thought that you loved me!" Rayfa screamed, her already-red face growing even redder as tears welled up in her teal eyes.

"No, of course, Rayfa, I love you! I came all the way back here from my office to check on you, didn't I?"

"No! No you don't! You only came back because you HAD to! You're like Mother, treating me like I'm some burden that's ruining your life! I bet you wish that I was never even born!" Rayfa wailed, bursting out into tears as she buried her face into her mattress.

"Rayfa, you know that's not true! How can I prove it? I'll do anything." Inga pleaded as he went against his better judgement and rubbed Rayfa's back, causing his daughter to quickly jerk up her head to shoot him a scowl on par to that of her biological father's Dragon Glare.

"You mean it…?"

"Yes Rayfa, whatever it is, I'll do it!"

Rayfa reached out a hand from underneath her covers and rubbed her chin in thought. "Well, I could use some more food from the market…"

"Inga nodded his head. "Right. So what'll you have, honey?"

"I want 20 packs of Plume Punisher cookies, 40 bags of chips, 10 jugs of chocolate chip ice cream, 12 pizzas-"

"Uh, Rayfa…" Inga interrupted, scratching the back of his head out of concern. "Don't you think that's a bit, I don't know… excessive?"

Rayfa emitted a shrill shriek as her glare somehow grew even fiercer. "I KNEW IT! Not only don't you love me, but you think that I'm FAT!?" The disgruntled princess yelled, a look of hurt forming in her eyes.

"Rayfa, that's ridiculous! You're in no way fat! Now your mother, _she's_ fat; whereas you're slim and svelte!"

"Oh, so now you think that I'm skinny like some gangly, ugly twig that one would find in their yard- the kind that one would waste no time in throwing away!? Do your insults know no end, you… you… MEANIE!?"

Inga put his hands up in front of his torso as he vigorously shook his head. "No! That's not what I meant, Rayfa. I- Ah!" Inga screamed as Rayfa threw several Plumed Punisher plushies of varying sizes at her poor father.

"Rayfa! What's gotten into- Oh no…" Inga, with eyes as wide as saucers, bolted out of the room at full speed as he saw Rayfa grab the lamp from her nightstand and prepare to throw it at him. Thankfully, he managed to close the door behind him right before he heard the sound of the lamp crashing against it.

Now it all made sense as to why the palace was in such an uproar. In her current state, Rayfa could have very easily given the Defiant Dragons a run for their money. Heck, not even the Hulk would be able to stand a chance against Rayfa, if that throwing arm of hers was of any indication. Inga was tempted to call-in his secret police, but Rayfa would probably crush them all like tin cans on the sidewalk. That's why, instead of fighting this, Inga decided to give in to his daughter's demands; and an hour-and-a-half later, he returned to Rayfa's room with a cart filled with all of the food items that the disgruntled princess had requested, finding that his daughter was once more hiding underneath her mountain of covers.

"Father, is that you? Have you returned with the items that I requested?" Rayfa chirped, her personality undergoing a 180 degree turn since Inga was chased out of the room.

"Y-Yes, Rayfa. Here they are. It was a lot of work getting it back here; but it was all worth it for you!" Inga nervously replied.

What happened next was a scene that would scar Inga for the rest of his life- from underneath the covers, two little hungry hands reached out and started pulling whatever foodstuffs they could grab from the cart and take them back from whence they came; the only remains emerging being discarded wrappers and boxes that were forcefully thrown from underneath the covers and onto the floor as Rayfa proceeded to grab more and more food as the shell of covers shook from the princess' vigorous feasting.

As this was happening, Inga's jaw dropped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, as he witnessed his sweet, refined daughter, who would, for the most part, not so much as even breathe out of line, devouring more than twice her body weight in junk food with the ferocity of a dog that hadn't eaten for days.

"Rayfa…?" Inga nervously asked as he backed away from the covers, fearful of the possibility of the shell of sheets bursting open like a cocoon to reveal that his daughter had transformed into some giant moth/mantis creature that would eat his head.

"WHAT!?" Rayfa growled in a tone that Inga swore could only belong to some sort of hell spawn.

"Is there anything else that I can get for you?" Inga asked with much hesitation.

"I want a new outfit for Croakie!" Rayfa demanded, which prompted Inga to look over to his daughter's dressing, where her rather large pet frog, dressed in a bright-green suit and matching fedora, sat perfectly still, much like a statue- probably to avoid receiving his master's wrath in the form of projectile furniture. "I grow weary of his current attire. I wish for him to look exotic, so buy him a yellow and purple stripped sweater vest and a matching yellow top hat!"

"Consider it as good as done." Inga replied before rushing out the room and back to the bazaar.

Thankfully, this trip only took the minister 30 minutes on account of there being, strangely enough, a vendor that specialized in making designer outfits for frogs; but then again, this was the marketplace that housed a stand dedicated to a man who would whisper to a person's rashes and tell them the proper way to treat them.

Upon Inga returning to her room, Rayfa stuck her head out from underneath the mound of covers to get a status report on her father's trip to the bazaar.

"So, did you buy Croakie's new outfit?"

With a triumphant grin on his face, Inga pulled out a purple and yellow stripped sweater vest and a yellow top hat. Though instead of hearing his daughter sing his praises, he received another ear bleeding shriek.

"Father, what is the meaning of this!?" Rayfa yelled, her left eye starting to twitch.

Inga cocked his head in confusion as he scratched the side of it. "Whaddaya mean? I got you the stuff that you asked for."

"No! I said a yellow and purple stripped sweater vest; whereas you got Croakie one that is _purple and yellow_ stripped!"

"So, what's the difference?"

Upon hearing this question, Rayfa's nostrils started to flare. "'What's the difference!?' 'WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE!?' I'll tell you the difference, Father! The purple stripes at the very top clash with Croakie's complexion, making him look ill! And what is that material, polyester? You know that Croakie is allergic to polyester! If he wears this, then he'll break out in a horrid rash and I'll have to take him down to the Rash Whisperer! Do you wish for my dear Croakie to endure such public humiliation!?"

"N-no…" Inga timidly muttered under his breath, looking down at the ground in the hopes that he wouldn't enrage Rayfa any further by looking her in the eye.

"And what in the Holy Mother's name possessed you to purchase _that_ shade of yellow for his hat!? When I said to buy a yellow top hat, I meant saffron- a pleasant shade that promotes whimsy and joviality- not _mustard_! Croakie is not a pimp, he is a gentleman! Ugggghhhh!" Rayfa screeched.

Inga's body tensed up, not unlike how one reacts to being cornered by a bear whose honey was just stolen.

"I HATE YOU!" Rayfa yelled as she picked up her nightstand with a single hand.

Knowing where this was going, Inga dashed out of the room once again and quickly closed the door behind him as the nightstand crashed against the door.

And no sooner had the nightstand crashed against the door, did Inga hear from inside the room Rayfa chirp "I love you, Father! You're the greatest man in the whole wide world!"

 _What the- What is this madness!? Amara was right! Rayfa's barely human anymore! Over the span of mere seconds, my daughter has gone from yelling how she hates me and trying to kill me with furniture to saying how much she loves me. I don't know what malevolent spirit has overcome my baby girl, but one way or another; I'm freeing Rayfa from its vile grip! Time to get spiritual..._

* * *

About 30 minutes later, Tahrust Inmee and Nahyuta entered the hallway outside Rayfa's room, where they were greeted by Inga.

"Abbot Inmee, Prosecutor Nahyuta! You don't know how much I appreciate you both coming down here."

"Do not worry, Minister Inga. It is our duty as servants to Her Holiness to expel evil wherever it may lurk. Now, what has happened to Her Benevolence that has caused you such distress?" Tahrust calmly asked, his stoic form a direct contrast to Inga's jittery, distraught state.

"I don't know, Abbot Inmee. All I know is that this morning, Rayfa went from being my kind and refined daughter to some creature with mood swings that constantly yells at me and throws things! I think that she's being possessed by a demon of sorts. But she's the Holy Priestess, the crown princess of Khura'in and a decedent of the Holy Mother! Shouldn't she be immune to this sort of thing?" Inga asked.

Tahrust took a deep breath as he gently clasped his hands together. "One would think that; but remember this, Minister Inga: A demon gains victory not from conquering those that have already fallen, but by corrupting the souls of those who are pure- and the only person purer in soul than Her Benevolence is Her Eminence."

 _Let's see how pure you think that crone's soul is after I tell you about what she did to me last Wednesday…_ Inga rolled his eyes in contempt. "So, you think that you two can save my daughter?"

"Worry not, Minister Inga." Nahyuta replied with a confident grin. "While this putrid demon is strong in power, we are even stronger with our faith and devotion to the Holy Mother. Rest assured, we have brought several of the most potent scriptures in all of Khurai'inism and we shan't cease our theological attack on this putrid spirit until we send it back to the putrid dark pit in Hell from whence it came."

"Excellent. Good luck…" Inga snickered, making it hard to keep his stamp clenched between his teeth.

"Oh please, Minister Inga. He who has Her Holiness on their side does not need luck." Tahrust smugly commented before he and Nahyuta entered Rayfa's room, making sure to close the door behind them.

Once inside, the holy duo saw Rayfa's head sticking out of her shell of sheets, engrossed with watching an episode of _The Plumed Punisher_ on a portable DVD player in front of her; but upon hearing the two men enter the room, she looked up to greet them.

"Abbot Inmee? Prosecutor Sahdmadhi? What are you two doing here?"

"Do not fear, Your Benevolence, for your father has summoned us here to rid you of the demon plaguing your soul." Tahrust replied.

"What!" Rayfa yelled. "My father thinks that I'm being possessed!? And you two nincompoops were foolish enough to believe him!? I'm half tempted to have you both excommunicated!"

Tahrust glanced over at Nahyuta. "It's worse than I thought. Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, start the Prayer of Preparation."

Nahyuta took out a scroll and flicked it open before chanting the prayer on it. "O Holy Mother, bless us, Your humble servants, with the wisdom, strength, and courage to rid Your Servant, Rayfa Padma Khura'in, of the demon that plagues her. Allow us to bring her back into Your righteous fold so that she may continue to serve You in her duties as Royal Priestess. And so…"

While Nahyuta preformed the chant, Tahrust performed a variety of meditative poses while chanting in Khura'inese. Though despite their best efforts, this only managed to enrage Rayfa, prompting her to finally leave her shell of sheets and hop off of her bed, revealing her Plumed Punisher pajamas.

"Stop it! I'm not possessed!" Rayfa yelled as she picked up her fallen curio cabinet and tossed the large piece of furniture at the two holy men.

"KAAAAAAH!" Tahrust bellowed as he punched the vanity cabinet, causing it to split in half and fall to the ground before it could harm him or Nahyuta. "Open your heart, Your Benevolence! Let the Holy Mother in! Let Her guide your soul back to purity!"

Rayfa flashed the two men a glare rivaling that of Dhurke's. "Oh, I'll give you guidance alright…" Rayfa picked up her ceremonial staff and pointed it at the two holy men. "Guidance to the Twilight Realm if you don't leave this instant!"

"Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, the demon is on the offensive! Use the Holy Rosary Constriction technique to restrain it!" Tahrust ordered.

Nahyuta threw his rosary so that it wrapped itself around Rayfa's torso, ensnaring her arms and stopping her in her tracks, and then performed a variety of hand gestures.

"Satora imaoman domosamashi detashinuke taregasayo sonoka!" Nahyuta chanted before clapping his hands together, causing the rosary to squeeze Rayfa's torso, which resulted in the princess screaming in agony.

"Good, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi. Now, while it is incapacitated, let us deal the coup de grace. Hand me the Prayer of Exorcism!" Nahyuta hands Tahrust a scroll, which he unrolls and proceeds to read. "O Holy Mother, with Your limitless strength and wisdom, expel this demon most vile from the body of your servant, Rayfa Padma Khura'in, and cast it back into the Infernal Abyss! Free this poor girl and we shall rejoice Your holy name-"

The prayer was interrupted when Rayfa, with a shrill shriek, managed to break free from Nahyuta's rosary and continued to slowly approach the two men while brandishing her staff.

"Abbot Inmee, it's broken free from its restraints! What shall we do now?"

"KAAAH! As much as I hate to say this, we cannot defeat this malevolent spirit at the moment. So let us retreat back to the temple so that we may come up with a new strategy!" Tahrust tried to open the door so that he and Nahyuta could escape, but much to their horror, the door would not open no matter how hard he tried.

"What in the name of the Holy Mother-" Tahrust grumbled as he jiggled the doorknob.

"Abbot Tahrust, we have to get out of here! Open the door!"

"KAAAH! Don't you see that I'm trying, Nahyuta!?" Tahrust looked behind him and Rayfa slowly getting closer to them. "Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, it's time to prove yourself as a monk by protecting your high priest!"

"What do you mean by-" Before Nahyuta could finish his question, Tahrust pushed him back towards Rayfa, allowing the temperamental princess to get close enough to start repeatedly bludgeoning him with her staff.

As Nahyuta's screams filled the air, Tahrust resumed with his attempts to try to open the bedroom door by jiggling the doorknob and pounding on the door.

"Minister Inga! Minister Inga! Help us! We're trapped in here! In the name of the Holy Mother, help us, Minister Inga, before- Aaaah!" Tahrust's pleas for help were interrupted by Rayfa proceeding to bludgeon him with her staff as well.

Meanwhile, outside the door, which Inga barred off with a bar stool from his daughter's kitchen as soon as Tahrust and Nahyuta entered the bedroom, the minister, hearing the distressed pleas of the holy men, decided to do the one thing that he vowed to never do unless absolutely necessary: Go on the internet for parenting tips.

And so, Inga quickly pulled out his laptop and searched the internet until he found a chatroom pertaining to fathers having issues with their daughters, www. .; and wasting no time, Inga went into the question submissions section and wrote the following response…

 _GrapeJuiceKing82: Hello, I normally don't go on websites like this, but I'm facing a serious crisis and need help. You see, in the course of a few hours, my beloved nine year-old daughter has transformed from the sweet angel she normally is into some kind of evil demon! She has developed mood swings and an insatiable appetite the likes no man has witnessed before and just lies in her bed, only lifting her head to yell. I've tried everything in my power to cure her- calmly talking to her, getting her whatever food she wants, etc.- but everything that I do only succeeds in getting her angrier to the point of throwing things like the Hulk! I've just sent a high priest and a monk into her room to cure her, but from the sound of it, they'll be lucky to get outta there alive! My servants and subordinates have all fled the area out of fear, her mother's out for diplomatic reasons, and I have no idea what's wrong with my daughter and am fearing for my life! HELP!_

Fortunately for Inga, mere minutes after submitting his issue, he was sent a reply by a user known simply as ACE-, which went as follows…

 _ACE: Number one, I suggest you begin charting down which days of the month your daughter's demon moods seem to spawn going forward and expect this to occur on average between every 28 to 35 days for at least another 30 to 40 years! That's right, what your princess is experiencing is known as Nature's Fury, which is most man's nightmare. Rest assured, it does ebb a bit once it actually rears its ugly head and it is the threat of the storm itself which is the most terrifying and can occur anywhere from one to two weeks prior to the main event. That being said, I also suggest you invest in very high-end protective gear for any part of your body you are particularly fond of- whether that would be a chest plate for your abdominal region, as my best friend received a spinning kick in that area; but most importantly, your man parts, as I assume you may want to have more children in the future and they are subject to becoming victimized in the crossfire at times. Unfortunately, no matter how religious the zealot, there is no cure for this... I suggest you instead send them out to get whatever products women use for this time of the month and have a heavy arsenal. I also suggest that if you do not wish to explain the finer details, download something from the internet to enclose with the products as their time of need will be coming soon. My last bit of advice is to keep a loving and cool temperament, always have ice cream handy, prepare for your food budget to go through the ceiling especially with junk food, and agree with everything they say- no matter how insane. Trust me... I have two daughters. Fate decided to laugh at me and let them become woman at precisely the same time. However, I did manage to survive it and I promise you will too. Best of luck GrapeJuiceKing82._

Upon seeing this reply, Inga's eyes widened as he finally figured out why Rayfa had been behaving so strangely. "She has PMS!? Wait, so not all women going through their monthly cycles strictly turn into sexual predators who relentlessly stalk their poor husbands? Only my wife? Figures…" Inga grumbled to himself. "Still, I don't know anything about those products. All I know is that tampons have those little wing-things on 'em. That, and I can't afford to be seen out in public buying feminine body products. What kind of image would that send out? I can imagine the headlines now: 'Mighty Minister of Justice Inga Karkhuul Khura'in Knows His Way around a Pad!' I could imagine the smug look on Dhurke's stupid face when he'd see that. I would instantly lose all of my intimidation tactics! So how can I- Of course!

Inga rushed over to Rayfa's door, removed the stool, and opened the door, allowing Tahrust and Nahyuta to drag their battered, bruised bodies out of the room before the minister quickly closed the door.

"Do not worry, Minister Inga. The demon stopped its assault on us after we decided to play dead. Though it is a shame that we couldn't help Her Benevolence." Tahrust stated with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that just yet, Abbot Inmee…" Inga replied with a sinister smirk on his face.

* * *

At the bazaar, Tahrust and Nahyuta stared at the feminine products booth with a shared look of dread.

"Abbot Inmee, this is insane! We may have pledged our lives to Her Holiness, but this…!?" Nahyuta whimpered.

Tahrust placed a firm hand on Nahyuta's shoulder and let out a long sigh. "Nahyuta, I am not going to lie; this will be an awkward, torturous, humiliating experience that shall haunt us until our deaths. But rest assured, the Holy Mother will remember this sacrifice and shall repay us tenfold in the next life. Not to mention, the Holy Mother was gracious enough to provide us the Hymn of Sorrow for just such an occasion. So hand me the scroll, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi."

Nahyuta handed Tahrust a scroll, which he opened and both men proceeded to read.

"Holy Mother, take the reins, Take them from my hands, 'cause I can't do it on my own. I'm letting go…!" The two holy men sullenly sang in unison as they walked up to the female products booth.

* * *

Later that night, donned in the best police gear that he could borrow, Inga, with the help of several internet guides, taught Rayfa how to use the feminine products that Tahrust and Nahyuta purchased; and just like ACE stated, Rayfa's mood swings got a bit better and Inga was actually able to leave without having any furniture thrown at him and only being ordered to bring his daughter a few bags of potato chips.

After bringing Rayfa her order of chips and saying good night, Inga proceeded to head back to his private quarters for some much needed shuteye.

 _I did it… I survived the turmoil of Rayfa entering into womanhood. On that topic, what's today? The 14_ _th_ _? Oh goodie, Rayfa's time of the month syncs-up with Ga'ran's. That'll be a fun time… NOT! Thank the Holy Mother that Ga'ran's getting back from her diplomatic trip tomorrow morning, otherwise I'd have to deal with HER hormones as well._

When Inga entered his dark private quarters, he closed the door and turned on the light, only to scream in terror at sight of Ga'ran, in her prosecutor's outfit and armed with her paddle, lying on his bed and giving him a 'come hither' look.

"Oh, husband, I could not bear to be apart from you any longer, so I decided to return home a little early…" Ga'ran got off the bed and sauntered over to Inga, whose eyes were widening in fear. "So allow me to take you to _my_ Court of Resignation…" The queen purred, smacking Inga's tushie with her paddle to emphasize her point.

"NO!" Inga screamed as he ran to his door, but in a sick karmic fashion, the door would not open for him, not matter what he tried.

"No! No! Nooo! Help! Help! Holy Mother, if you can hear me, smite me with thunder and lightning! I've been a bad, _baaad_ man who- Aaaah! No-oooo-oooooooo!" Inga wailed as Ga'ran dragged him, kicking and screaming, back to his bed where she proceeded to do many unspeakable acts to the minister of Justice for several hours.

Meanwhile, outside Inga's private quarters, Tahrust and Nahyuta were standing by the door, which they had blocked off with a chair, and were laughing at Inga's pain.

"Abbot Inmee, will the Holy Mother be upset that we took the path of vengeance against Minister Inga? I know that he left us to suffer at the hand of the demon possessing Her Benevolence, but isn't what we left him with is so much worse?" Nahyuta pondered.

"KAAAH! Let Minister Inga reap what he sowed! He refused to help us in our time of need, so we shall not help him in his. And while the Holy Mother has immense patience, even she will not condone a member of the royal family abandoning Her most faithful."

As Inga's screams filled the air, Nayna walked through the moonlit courtyard and gazed at Inga's private quarters. "Yeah, reeeal fearless, Inga." Nayna sneered as she continued her walk, uttering one last 'nincompoop' under her breath before she entered the palace.


	4. The Warbaa'ds and the Yaks

Inga never understood how people could get excited for the New Year. All that happens is the year number goes up by one. It's not like the second the clock hits midnight on January first, the universe starts anew and the issues of the previous year just up and disappeared- the Defiant dragons were still active, Rayfa had been more self-conscious on account of her not making much progress in terms of spirit channeling, and he was still married to Ga'ran.

But it wasn't like Inga was some sort of New Year Scrooge who didn't feel any positive feelings about the season and had quite a bit going for him- the Defiant Dragons hadn't launched any sort of attacks or protests recently and Ga'ran hadn't violated him as of yet. So, as of this point, 2028 was shaping up to be a good year for him.

But it wouldn't last; nothing good in Inga's life, with the exception of Rayfa, ever lasted. It was only a matter of time before something, whether pertaining to Dhurke or his banshee of a wife or something equally as migraine-inducing, sensed his joy and put an end to it. And sure enough, on January eighth, 2028, this was confirmed in one of the worst of ways.

* * *

It was a typical Saturday for Inga- sitting in his private quarters, doing papers while he hid from Ga'ran. Suddenly, the Minister of Justice flinched upon hearing the front door creak open and the person not announcing themself.

Inga's eyes widened. _Oh no!_ _Is Ga'ran trying to be spontaneous again!? But I still haven't healed from the last time!_ Inga thought with much terror, recalling that horrid DC Act Day, as he spun around in his chair and pulled out his trusty pistol, which he always carried on his person for just such an emergency, and aimed it towards the doorway and the unexpected visitor. "Who's there!? You wanna mess with-" Inga lowered his pistol, a pang of guilt rushing through him, upon seeing Rayfa, her arms raised in front of her torso, staring at him with a look of terror in her eyes.

"I-I'm sorry, Father. If it's not a good time, I can come back later." Rayfa nervously stated. However, as Rayfa tried to leave the room, she was stopped by Inga, who had practically leapt out of his seat, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and turning his daughter around to give her a hug.

"I'm sorry, Rayfa. I didn't mean to scare you just then. It's just that I get a bit nervous when people don't announce themselves when entering my private quarters. After all, we've got those Defiant Dragons roaming around the country thinking that they own the place."

"I understand, Father." Rayfa replied with a forlorn tone.

Knowing that something was bothering his daughter, Inga broke off the hug as he got down one knee, making sure that he was at eye-level with his daughter, and put his hands on her shoulders.

"What's the matter, Rayfa? Are you still upset about me accidently pulling a gun on you? Look, I didn't mean to do it. Honest! I love you with all my heart and couldn't live with myself if something happened to my little girl. It's just that when you normally enter my private quarters, you announce yourself, so I thought that it was someone else."

"It's not that, Father… It's… something else." Rayfa sullenly replied, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Did your mother belittle your spiritual powers again, saying how useless you are!?" Inga growled.

"Father…"

"Listen to me, Rayfa. I don't care what your mother says, you're a good priestess. You do a heck of a Divination Séance!" Inga comments as a proud grin spreads across his face. "Why, when I go to the High Court, I constantly hear the Magistrate going on about how he fears that your Divination Séances are so good that he'll get the boot. So what if you can't channel spirits yet? You'll learn how to do it soon enough and then you'll show your mother!" The Minister of Justice patted his still-glum daughter's shoulder. "So ya feeling better?"

"Father… I appreciate your kind words, but that's not what's bothering me. You see, I… I have a question, but I'm feeling conflicted about whether or not to ask you."

"Rayfa, I'm your father. If you have a question, any question at all, I'll be more than happy to answer it for you."

Rayfa's gaze shifted slightly upward, allowing Inga to see the worry in his daughter's eyes. "Well, from what I have heard, this question makes people feel uncomfortable… I love you, Father. I don't want you to suffer."

Inga let out a hearty chuckle. "Rayfa, I'm the Minister of Justice. I've seen and dealt with things that would drive a lesser man to tears! So whatever question you have, I can take it no problem!" The Minister of Justice boasted, puffing out his chest in pride.

A small smile spread across Rayfa's face as she breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright, Father: How are babies made?"

Upon hearing that infamous question, Inga's puffed out chest deflated like a punctured balloon as his face paled. "W-W-Why do you… Why do you ask, Rayfa?" the Minister of Justice sputtered out as he tried to maintain his composure, but judging by the frown spreading across his daughter's face, he was doing an awful job at it.

Rayfa's gaze shifted once more to the floor. "See? I knew that this would only make you uncomfortable! I'm so sorry Father!" Rayfa said as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Don't cry, Rayfa! I'm not uncomfortable. I was just caught off-guard, is all. I just want to know what put that question in your mind at this point in your life."

"Well…" Raya said, twiddling her thumbs. "Since Abbot Inmee's wife has been pregnant for some time now, it's got me thinking about how babies are made? Do the parents do something, or does the Holy Mother do all the work and it's spontaneous?"

Inga cocked his head and scratched the back of his neck. "Well… yes and no… Did you try asking Nayna about it? She'll probably give you a way better answer than I could." _Plus, Amara still owes me for leaving me alone the first time Rayfa's 'monthly visitor' arrived._

"Well, I tried asking Nayna, but she told me that it's Khura'inese tradition for a parent to answer that question. And since you're much nicer to me than Mother, I figured that it would be best to ask you!" Rayfa chirped in hope of winning her father over.

Inga flinched. _Damn it, Amara! If you're pissed about your life's situation, take it out on Ga'ran; not me!_

"So Father, how are babies made?" Rayfa asked.

"Well, you ever hear the old saying, 'the warbaa'ds and the yaks'?"

Rayfa nodded her head. "Yes, Father. Are warbaa'ds and yaks involved in the process?"

"Not really. It's more of a metaphor, see?"

Rayfa cocked her head. "How so?"

"Well…" Inga stroked his beard as he tried to think of a good reason. "You see, you got the yak doing yak-stuff- eating grass, plowing fields, and the like- minding his own business, when the warbaa'd swoops in outta nowhere and screams in the yak's ear with that roar of hers and yells at the yak for being such a pushover before giving him a big ol' smile and gently stroking his fur. The yak, fearful for his own wellbeing, tries to run from the warbaa'd, but no matter how fast he runs, she can fly, so she'll always catch him. Then, pinning the poor yak to the ground with her talons, the warbaa'd, she… she…"

Inga took a few steps back from Rayfa and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Rayfa. I can't do this. Not because I don't want to, but because I'm not prepared. I've gotta talk this over with your mother to make sure that you learn all the right stuff."

"Alright Father, I understand. Take all the time you need."

* * *

In Ga'ran's audience chamber, Inga stood before the golden steps leading up to Ga'ran's throne, looking up at his wife as she sat upon her regal chair, staring down at her husband and the members of her royal guard that lined both sides of the long purple carpet that covered the center of the room.

"Husband, it is unlike you to come to my chamber at this time of day. What brings you here? Approval and funding for a plan to eliminate the Defiant Dragons…" A sultry grin spread across Ga'ran's face. "or something more?"

Inga shuddered internally at the thought, knowing from experience that rejection only served to rile up Ga'ran. In fact, rejection was the driving force that started their relationship; but that's a story for another time.

"It's about Rayfa, Ga'ran. She asked me how babies were made and-"

"You floundered about like a pitiful carp and failed to provide her with an answer?" Ga'ran groaned and rolled her eyes. "Typical."

 _What? Couldn't spit acid in my face, Ga'ran? Or would that be too merciful?_ "In retrospect, yes. So, since she's your daughter as much as she is mine, could you help me give her the Talk?"

"Yes." Ga'ran replied with a nod.

Inga flinched in shock at the notion of his wife actually agreeing to help him with something not related to his position of Minister of Justice.

"You will?" Inga cocked his head in confusion, unsure as to whether he was hearing things right.

"Of course, Inga. This is a matter of great importance if the royal family is to live on for future generations. However, as the ruler of this country, I do not accomplish tasks with mere words, but actions. That is why we will be teaching Rayfa…" Ga'ran flashed Inga a come-hither look and licked her lips. "through example."

Inga took a step back, breaking out in a cold sweat as his face contorted into an expression of pain at the thought of Ga'ran not only giving him wounds, both physical and mental, that would take years to heal, but also traumatizing their adoptive daughter, who would surely have nightmares about it for the rest of her life.

"Er, actually, on second thought, it would be better if I handled this all on my own, see? You're the queen, after all, and probably have a lot of important queenly stuff to do."

Ga'ran leaned towards Inga. "Are you sure, Husband? I can always put aside our duties for-"

Before Ga'ran could finish that statement, Inga had already stormed out of the audience chamber and was making a mad dash back to his private quarters.

"Typical Inga- fleeing with his tail between his legs before I can have my fun." Ga'ran huffed. "Lah'kee, we require a shoulder rub." The queen commanded with a snap of her fingers, prompting the royal guard/shoulder rubber to rush over to her.

"Yes, Yooour Eminence!" Lah'kee shouted as he proceeded to massage the queen's shoulders.

"Will you stop shouting like that? You are giving us a headache." Ga'ran growled.

"Sorry, Yooour Eminence!" Lah'kee shouted again.

* * *

15 minutes later, Inga was sitting in his private quarters, after having sent Rayfa out so that he could think, talking on his cellphone to the one of the few people that could help him with his current problem.

"Hello, this is Abbot Inmee speaking. May I ask who is calling?"

"Hey Abbot Inmee-" Inga said before being cut off by a growl from the high priest.

"Minister Inga, to what do I owe this displeasure?" Tahrust bluntly asked.

"Well aren't you in a foul mood today? Twist a muscle with those fancy pants poses of yours?" Inga snidely commented.

"Well, you would be in a foul mood as well if you were called by the man who had left you and your pupil to die a most-gruesome death."

"Whoa now, you're still angry about that whole, 'locking you in a room with my menstruating daughter who beat the tar out of you' thing? Man, I thought that you holy people were supposed to be above that."

"Even the Holy Mother has limits, Minister Inga, and after you forced Prosecutor Sahdmadhi and I to buy feminine products for Her Benevolence after being bludgeoned, we reached ours." Tahrust stated matter-of-factly.

"Well, you mind putting that incident behind you and coming over here and talking to Rayfa about the warbaa'ds and the yaks?"

"No." Tahrust bluntly answered.

"'No'!?" Inga snarled, chomping down on his cigar stamp as he gritted his teeth. "Whaddya mean 'no'?"

"I'm sorry, Minister Inga, but I cannot risk my and Prosecutor Nahyuta's safety again by going through with another one of your calls."

"But what about Rayfa?" Inga pleaded. "Her development depends on this knowledge!"

"Look, Minister Inga, if Her Eminence called and asked for my services, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi and I would be more than happy to oblige. We just refuse to come at your request."

"Don't forget who you're talking to, Abbot Inmee." Inga sternly warned. "Saying stuff like that will land you a nice spot at the top of my execution list."

"KAAAAAH!" Tahrust yelled, causing Inga to flinch. "And risk a nationwide scandal by executing one of Khura'in's most beloved priests?"

"Damn!" Inga yelled, pounding his fist on his desk in anger. "C'mon, man! You gotta help me out? Can't you send Beh'leeb over to explain this stuff to Rayfa?" Inga pleaded.

"And risk my wife and unborn child's safety? I think not. Perhaps if you wish me a happy birthday this coming Leap Day, which you failed to do four years ago, I will forgive your transgressions against me and will not pray to the Holy Mother for your life to be filled with pain and misery." Tahrust mused.

"Well joke's on you, Abbot Inmee! Ga'ran's been doing that for years!" Inga angrily retorted as he ended the call before covering his face with his hands and letting out a muffled scream of frustration.

"Great, just great…" Inga groaned. "Now who's gonna teach Rayfa this stuff? I don't wanna do a live example with Ga'ran!"

Inga's loathing was then interrupted by someone knocking on his door.

Inga sighed "Come in, the door's open."

As Inga went back to his loathing, rubbing his palms against his eyes to ease his tension, he was greeted by the sound of a dahmalan being played. Turning around to see the source of the sound, the Minister of Justice saw a man with long brown hair and a brown goatee, a red butterfly tattoo in the middle of his face, wearing a violet robe with a red and yellow Khura'inese sash that only covered the left half of his torso, leaving the right side completely exposed, holding a dahmalan.

"Uh, and just who are you?" Inga asked, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. No one looking like this guy was in his appearance notepad, so he had to verify his identity.

"I'm Pees'lubn Andistan'dhin, the new head monk at Tehm'pul Temple." Pees'lubn stated.

Inga cocked his head in confusion. "When'd we get a new head monk?"

"My swearing-in ceremony was last week. Even Her Eminence was there. She told me how you would have come, but you, like, were busy bringing the fight to the Dragons."

"Riiight, that thing Ga'ran went to last Thursday... Sorry I couldn't make it. The paperwork really piles up when I'm gone, see? Makes it kinda hard for me to get involved in Khura'in's spiritual life."

"Don't worry about it, Minister Inga. I can pick up what you're throwing down, man." Pees'lubn struck a chord on his dahmalan before playing a song.

 _Fish that swim through the seas,_

 _Honey that is made by the bees._

 _That is what the Holy Mother speaks,_

 _From me to you, with these dahmalan techniques._

 _Every person has a different task,_

 _As well as how the Holy Mother's glory they bask._

Pees'lubn clasps his hands together. "You see, Minister Inga, the Holy Mother has given each and every person a different purpose in life. But whether or not that purpose allows you to fully embrace her spiritually, as long as you keep Her in your heart, She will always smile down upon you."

 _Then explain why she stuck me with Ga'ran?_ "Andistan'dhin, I don't think that you came to my private quarters to give me a sermon, so why are you here?"

"Well, Her Benevolence didn't show up at the temple for our Dance of Devotion rehearsal, so I stopped by to make sure that everything was copasetic. As for why I'm talking to you, when I found Her Benevolence, she was outside this building waiting for you to answer her question about how mommies and daddies become, well, mommies and daddies, and refused to come to rehearsal until she gets her answer. So I was wondering if you'd be down with me teaching Her Benevolence about the facts of life."

 _Thank the Holy Mother! I'm saved!_ "That could work." Inga calmly responded, not wanting to make himself look too desperate.

"You sure? 'Cause I know how some parents wanna teach their kids that topic themselves."

Inga nodded "Yeah, I'm sure. Just let me get her."

A few moments later, Inga returned to his private chambers and had Rayfa sit on his bed.

"So Father, are you ready to teach me how babies are made?" Rayfa asked with a look of intrigue.

"Well Rayfa, I've decided that since you're the Royal Priestess, it would be best for you to be taught this by a spiritual man. And who better than the head monk?"

"A high priest like Abbot Inmee." Rayfa answered.

"Well, Abbot Inmee is busy at the moment, so Mr. Andistan'dhin is the next best thing." Inga turned to Pees'lubn. "Alright Andistan'dhin, do your stuff."

The head monk strummed a chord on his dahmalan. "Don't worry, Your Benevolence, me and my girl here are gonna lay the facts on you. So buckle up and enjoy the ride."

Pees'lubn then proceeded to play a song on his trusty instrument.

 _The creation of life is done by two,_

 _An activity married men and women do._

 _They have hot and steamy sex._

 _They have hot and steamy sex._

Not expecting the lyrics to be so straightforward, Inga's eyes widened as his cheeks started to redden; contrary to Rayfa, who remained perfectly composed and shot a look of confusion at the head monk.

"Mr. Andistan'dhin, what's 'sex'?" Rayfa asked, prompting the head monk to resume his song.

' _What is sex?' I hear you ask._

 _It's the wondrous reproduction task,_

 _Involving the differences in our bodily possession-_

 _Organs that that warrant much digression._

 _The penis for him, and the vagina for her._

 _They're needed for the Holy Mother's act to occur._

 _First there's kissing and light foreplay._

 _Followed by penis in the vagina thrusting away._

 _Then when the pleasure is far too great,_

 _The man climaxes posthaste._

 _The man then releases his sperm,_

 _Which wriggles up the vagina like an earthworm._

 _The spunk then moves through the fallopian tube,_

 _Fast and quick, like a gear that's been covered in lube._

 _Once it reaches the end, one of many penetrates the ovarian egg._

 _Then over time, the combo forms a baby with arms and legs._

 _Finally, on the ninth month the baby is born._

 _And with that, a lack on the topic you no longer have to mourn._

"So, did I answer your question, Your Benevolence?" Pees'lubn asked Rayfa, who looked pretty content. Contrary to her father, who just stood there in shock, his mouth rapidly opening and closing like a fish gasping for air as he struggled to get his words out.

"You did a wonderful job, Mr. Andistan'dhin. Thank you." Rayfa replied.

"O-O-Ok… Lesson's done. Let's move on with our lives!" Inga stated as he tried to push Pees'lubn out of the room, only to be met with resistance from the head monk.

"Hey now, we're not done yet, Minister Inga." Pees'lubn calmly stated.

"We're not?" Inga asked.

The head monk shook his head. "Now my girl and I are moving onto the next lesson…" Pees'lubn strummed a chord on his dahmalan before starting his next song.

 _Your Benevolence, don't have premarital sex,_

 _Or you'll face the Holy Mother's hex._

 _You'll feel the inside of your thighs burn._

 _Your body will writhe and turn._

 _And for Her Holiness' mercy you will beg,_

 _To soothe the burning pain between your legs._

 _But Her forgiveness you will not see._

 _Why? Because you got yourself an STD._

 _What these letters mean, I'll tell you with ease._

 _They stand for sexually transmitted disease._

 _That's right, sexually transmitted disease._

 _That's right, sexually transmitted disease._

 _First your vagina will get a firm, round sore._

 _Next comes symptoms galore:_

 _Sore throat, fever, joint pain,_

 _Headaches, loss of appetite, and energy drain._

 _Then when you think that it's all done,_

 _The Holy Mother's wrath has only just begun._

 _Your mind will deteriorate._

 _Perpetual depression and irritability await._

 _From your brain your memories will fade,_

 _And the strength of your bladder will degrade._

 _So save your flower 'till marriage and you'll be fine,_

 _Or a life of pain and misery you'll have to resign._

Upon the song's completion, Rayfa burst out into tears, wailing as she ran over to and practically squeezed the life out of Inga with a death hug.

"Father! I don't want to get an STD and die! Don't let any dirty nincompoops touch me with their disease-riddled hands!" Rayfa wailed as Inga gently patted her back.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Rayfa. No punks with STD are gonna touch you on my watch. I promise." Inga directed his attention to Pees'lubn, flashing the head monk a death glare. "What is wrong with you!? My baby girl just wanted to know how babies are made, not what happens in the free clinic! You looking to get on my execution list for traumatizing my daughter and making her cry!?"

"Simmer down, man. No matter how much you don't want to admit it, STDs are a real and dangerous aspect of sexual intercourse in this day and age, so Her Benevolence needs to be aware of this. If Her Benevolence just simply waits for marriage, then she won't have to worry about contracting an STD in the first place." Pees'lubn calmly explained.

"She's the Royal Priestess, not the whore of Babylon! You don't have to worry about _my_ little girl sleeping around." Inga snarled.

"Yeah!" Rayfa chimed in with a sad, shaky voice as she started sniffling.

"And as for any boys who even think of trying anything, they'll have to deal with my Ten Laws of Dating that I had passed last year." Inga boasted.

"I'm not implying anything negative towards Her Benevolence, Minister Inga. I'm just saying that there are a whole slew of STDs out there and my song about syphilis was just the tip of the iceberg- there's also gonorrhea, chlamydia, herpes, HIV…" Pees'lubn stated as he started counting off the number of diseases mentioned on his fingers.

"Yeah, yeah, we get the point. So now are you done?" Inga growled.

The head monk shook his head. "Nope, I have one last topic to cover: masturbation."

"No! No! No! No! NOOOOOOOO! We are NOT going there! Rayfa DEFINITELY doesn't need to know about that topic." Inga bellowed at the top of his lungs, his face growing noticeably redder with rage.

"But Minister Inga, masturbation is the mortar used to lay down the brimstone bricks of sin on the path to damnation that the Devil is trying to force the youths of today to walk- along with tight pants, hip-hop music, and Tootsie Pops! Her Benevolence needs to know its evils in order to protect her soul!" Pees'lubn proclaimed as he struck a chord on his dahmalan.

"Over my dead-" Inga tried to object, but was interrupted by the head monk starting to play his third song.

 _In life people always try to find an easy way out._

 _Sex is no exception to this, no doubt._

 _That's why people stroke their junk._

 _Pleasuring themselves like a bunch of punks._

 _And while they get some euphoric high,_

 _With her wrath, the Holy Mother will make them fry._

 _Your palms will grow hairy and you'll be blind._

 _People will also see you as unrefined._

 _Your womb will shrivel up and die,_

 _Making you undesirable to any guy._

 _You'll die, sad and alone._

 _You'll die, sad and alone._

Inga, after looking over to see his daughter whimpering and covering her ears in a futile attempt to block out the song, had enough of this and went over to his desk, where he pushed a button activating a silent alarm. All the while, Pees'lubn failed to notice this and continued with his song.

 _But don't think that it's limited to the female half._

 _Guys who choke the chicken don't get long to laugh._

 _Their peepees become so very wee,_

 _Like a tiny, tiny flea._

 _They'll have to use tweezers to do a number one,_

 _And from them, women will run._

 _On Friday nights they lie in bed, crying alone,_

 _For their carnal sin they wish to atone,_

 _While ironically jerking off to groan._

 _In the end, any woman sees them as a bother._

 _Want more proof? Just ask your father._

As soon as Pees'lubn finished the song, several armed members of the secret police barged into Inga's private quarters and pointed their guns at the head monk, who quickly raised his hands in the air, dropping his dahmalan.

"Minister Inga, what seems to be the issue?" One of the officers asked.

"This wise guy thought that it would be funny to commit lese-majeste by traumatizing Rayfa and making her cry; in addition to spouting off horrid lies pertaining to my… physique."

"Say no more, Minister Inga." The officer stated as he went behind Pees'lubn and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him.

"Hey, hey, hey! I swear to the Holy Mother that I've done nothing wrong. All I did was teach Her Benevolence about the warbaa'ds and the yaks at her father's request." The head monk objected.

"He's delusional! Take him on down to the interrogation room so I can teach him a thing or two later!" Inga retorted with a sinister grin as he clenched his cigar stamp between his teeth.

The officer saluted the Minister of Justice. "Yes, sir! Come on, Andistan'dhin, we don't have all day!" The officer sated as he and two others dragged the head monk out of the room.

As they secret police left Inga's private quarters, the Minister of Justice focused his attention on his trembling, red-faced, whimpering daughter who had tears streaming down her cheeks.

Inga went over to Rayfa and hugged her, gently shushing her as he stroked her hair. "It's okay, Rayfa. That horrible performance is over."

"F-Father… Wha-What if I accidently do one of those bad things? I… I don't want to die alone!" Rayfa wailed as she shoved her face in her father's shoulder, soaking it with tears.

"Rayfa, that Andistan'dhin guy wasn't singling you out. He was talking about those ruffians that don't have half of the solid grounding in Khura'inism that you do- like thieves, Defiant Dragons, and Ahlbi Ur'gaid. So don't worry about all that nasty stuff happening to you, 'cause it won't." Inga calmly explained.

Rayfa sniffled, looking up at her father with bloodshot eyes. "Really…?"

"Yeah. And like I said before, if any disease-riddled goons wanna get to you, then they'll first have to get through me and my Ten Laws of Dating!" Inga boasted with a smirk. "So, you feeling better?"

"Yes, Father. Sorry for coming off as so weak-willed and crying like a child. I know that it's unbefitting of the future queen of Khura'in." Rayfa solemnly stated, casting her gaze downward in shame, only for Inga to use the tips of his fingers to push her chin upwards so that she could look him in the eye.

"Rayfa, I don't care what anyone tells you, you are never too old to cry in front of me."

"I'm not?"

Inga nodded. "Of course! It's practically my job as a father to protect my little girl and provide her comfort when she's down."

Rayfa flashed Inga a small smile. "Thank you, Father."

Inga broke off the hug and walked towards the door, making sure to pick up Pees'lubn's dahmalan. "Good. Now I'm off to give that head monk what for, so I'll be gone for about an hour. If you have any remaining questions about what Andistan'dhin sang about, I'll answer them when I get back."

"Okay, Father." Rayfa softly replied.

* * *

All Pees'lubn ever wanted to do in life was spread the joy of music and appreciate the little things- the clouds in the sky, the fish in the water, and the company of others. That's why he immigrated to Khura'in and embraced Khura'inism so fully. It was as if they reached into his body, pulled out his soul, and showed it to him. Granted, the nation lacked his main outlet for venting his anger, rock music, but that was but a small price to pay for living his dream. So what did the head monk do to deserve his current situation- his arms and legs tied to a chair in the middle of a locked room behind a table, with the only source of light being a dim lamp hanging from the ceiling?

As Pees'lubn shook in his chair like a leaf in the wind, his breathing becoming shaky, the door to the room flung open, the bright light from outside temporarily blinding the head monk, only to be greeted to the sight of Inga flashing him a malicious smirk when his vision returned.

"M-Minister Inga…" The head monk stuttered.

Inga leaned forward to exert his dominance. "That's right; it's me, Minister Inga- your worst nightmare incarnate. Now, about your punishment…"

"With the Holy Mother as my witness, I once again voice that I have done nothing wrong." Pees'lubn calmly stated, prompting Inga to slam the table with the palm of his hand.

"Oh, I don't know where you were, but last I checked, you committed lese-majeste by making Rayfa cry! Now, what kind of punishment should I suggest to the Magistry for this most-heinous of crimes…?" Inga mused as he cocked his head and stroked his beard in contemplation. "Excommunication, execution… Hell, why not both?" The Minister of Justice mused.

"Please, Minister Inga! Have mercy, for I am but a humble lamb belonging to Her Holiness!" The head monk begged.

"You know, I'm feeling rather generous today, so I think that I'll drop all the charges and forget that this ever happened."

Pees'lubn breathed a sigh of relief. "May Her Holiness bless you tenfold, Minister Inga!"

Inga waggled his finger. "Not so fast, pal. I'll pardon you, but only if you prove your loyalty to the royal family by doing me a favor."

"I'm listening. So do you want me to do something dangerous, like infiltrate the Defiant Dragons?" The head monk asked.

"No, it's a nice, safe job. All you need to do is go into the treasure room at the temple, steal the Founder's Orb, and deliver it to me personally, got it? Do that and I'll drop the charges for your act of lese-majeste."

"I don't know, Minister Inga. I don't think I can go against the Holy Mother like this."

"Oh, so I need to light a fire under you, eh? Well, good thing I brought some firewood!" Inga sneered as he showed Pees'lubn his dahmalan.

"My girl!" The head monk gasped, his eyes wide like saucers, before slumping over in defeat. "You win, Minister Inga. I'll… I'll do it. Just don't hurt my girl."

"Glad you see things my way, monk. Oh, and don't even think of double-crossing me, because one way or another, I'll find out. And if I find out, then…" Inga summoned a servant holding a stack of execution papers to appear right behind him before using his cigar stamp to approve one of the forms. "Capeesh?

Pees'lubn gulped as a few beads of cold sweat dripped down his brow. "Crystal clear."

"Good, good…" Inga grinned before placing his hands on the table and leaning towards the head monk. "Now, about that last part about me in that masturbation song, what gave you the idea that my manhood isn't so grand?"

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you enjoyed the chapter. If not, you'll be glad to know that this is going to be the last chapter regarding development. You see, given that this story is about Inga's experiences regarding Rayfa's childhood, I knew that I would sooner or later have to write chapters entailing the talk and puberty, so I decided to get those chapters done as soon as possible. As for maters of torso development, I figure that Nayna/Amara dealt with that on account of it being less dangerous than Rayfa menstruation and less awkward than the Talk. So for those of you looking for something tamer, you'll get just that in the next chapter.


	5. My Little Croakie

Work, work, work… That's what Inga's life had become. While he was sitting at his desk in his private quarters, working like a dog while slaving away at endless execution papers, his cold, uncaring harlot of a wife was busy sitting on her fancy throne getting shoulder rubs as she plotted more ways to torture his life.

 _What did I do to deserve this!?_ Inga internally yelled with each slam of his stamp, his brow hard and furrowed. Sure, to look at the Minister of Justice now one would say that he was getting his just desserts for his cold, uncaring, arrogant attitude and ruthless use of the secret police; but he wasn't always like this. Before he met Ga'ran, Inga was actually a decent person- he had friends, hobbies, the will to live- for the Holy Mother's sake, he was actually a skilled soccer player back in high-school, scoring five goals in a single game.

But after his 'happy' wedding to Ga'ran, everything that Inga loved was taken away from him in a snap- not figuratively, literally. Right after the reception, Ga'ran snapped her fingers and used her authority as the then-Minister of Justice to have the secret police destroy everything that Inga loved: smashed every personal possession he owned, deflated every soccer ball in the kingdom, and had his parents and other relatives executed for les-majesty; leaving Inga to live a sad, empty life as Ga'ran's puppet Minister of Justice and, worst of all, her… boy toy.

At the moment, there were only two things keeping Inga from downing a bottle of bleach and putting himself out of his misery: the love that he felt for his five-year-old daughter, Rayfa- whose sweet smile would cast a shimmer of light down upon his dreary life- and the prospect of usurping Ga'ran using the very position that she foolishly gave him and claiming the kingdom for Rayfa and himself.

Inga briefly stopped his work to glance out the nearby window and let out woeful sigh. Well, at least it was a nice day… the sun was out, birds were chirping, flowers were-

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH! FATHER! HELP!" Rayfa shrieked from the courtyard outside his personal quarters, snapping Inga out of his thoughts and causing him to jump to his feet.

"Don't worry, Rayfa! Daddy's coming!" Inga proclaimed as he picked up his cigar-stamp and rushed out of his private chambers; though he wasn't able to get far out the door before little Rayfa ran behind her father for protection, clinging to his leg with a whimper as her body trembled.

Inga, putting a comforting arm on Rayfa's back, looked down at his daughter.

"What's the matter, Rayfa?"

"Oh, Father!" Rayfa wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You have to protect me from it! Otherwise it'll eat me whole!"

"It'? What's 'it'?'" Inga asked with a look of confusion.

"A big ol' mean, scary monster with cold, evil eyes and unnerving groans that hates happiness! You have to stop it, Father! You're the only one big and strong enough to do it!" Rayfa pleaded, her fingers digging into Inga's leg.

 _Oh no! Did Ga'ran watch 'Moulin Rouge' again? I thought I hid the dvd after her last rampage!_ "Eh… Alright Rayfa, so where is this monster that I need to show whose boss?" Inga smugly asked.

"O-Over there…!" Rayfa whimpered, pointed a trembling finger behind her.

Inga looked over in the area that Rayfa was pointing to, but found nothing, much to his confusion.

Inga scratched his head. "… Am I missing something, Rayfa? 'Cause there's nothing there."

"Down there!" Rayfa pointed her finger her finger slightly lower.

The Minister of Justice looked down, and to his surprise and relief, saw a large frog standing a few inches from him and Rayfa.

" _That's_ the monster?" Inga pointed down at the frog, which Rayfa confirmed with a nod.

"Yes, Father! Now kill it. Kill it good!" The little princess commanded her father, pushing him towards her amphibian enemy.

"Calm down, Rayfa. It's only a frog. It's not gonna kill you."

Upon hearing this, Rayfa's face reddened as she clenched her little fists. "He will so, Father! Look at it. Look at it! It has the eyes of the Devil!" Rayfa proclaimed, pointing an angry finger at the frog, which only responded with a croak.

Inga briefly looked down at the frog before returning his gaze to his distraught little girl. "While its eyes do resemble your mom's, it's not gonna try and hurt you. If anything, he just wants to be your friend."

Inga carefully picked up the frog. "Why don't you try holding him?" The Minister of Justice extended his hands out to Rayfa, who's only response was to quickly take a step back.

"Please, Rayfa, I promise he won't bite." Inga tried to plead with his daughter.

Rayfa crossed her arms and looked off to the side. "No. I don't wanna and you can't make me!"

"C'mon, Rayfa, can't you do this on little thing for your dear, old dad who loves you so, so much?" Inga asked, flashing his daughter a sad puppy dog face, complete with quivering lower lip- a skill, which, much like singing the blues, requires years of pain and trauma to master.

Seeing her father's sad act, Rayfa lowered her guard and hesitantly walked over to him.

"Fine…" Rayfa groaned. "I'll hold him."

Rayfa reluctantly held out and cupped her hands, allowing Inga to slowly place the frog in his daughter's palms.

For what felt like hours, but was actually about ten seconds, both Rayfa and the frog remained motionless and silent, transfixed in each other's gaze.

Worried about his daughter, Inga lightly tapped Rayfa on her shoulder. "Rayfa? You okay?"

"… You know, Father, he's not that bad…" Rayfa replied, still occupied with staring at the creature.

"Well, that's good to hear, Rayfa."

"In fact, he's kinda cute…" Rayfa glanced up at her father. "Can I keep him? Pleeeease?"

Inga patted Rayfa's hair and flashed her a grin. "Why not? Everyone needs a pet sooner or later! So, what are you gonna name him?"

Rayfa cocked her head. "I don't know… Perhaps I should ask him." The little girl grinned at her new frog friend. "So, what's your name, Mr. Frog?"

After a few seconds of waiting, the frog responded with only a single croak.

"Croakie it is!" Rayfa chirped as she gently hugged the frog. "And we're gonna be the best friends ever! We'll go on walks, and pick flowers, and look at clouds, and go kick those Defiant Dragons' butts for giving Father so much grief!"

Seeing his daughter so happy with her new pet, Inga couldn't help but chuckle.

"I don't know, Rayfa. Those Defiant Dragons are _awfully_ defiant…" Inga, being a good sport and playing along with his daughter, said as he clenched his cigar stamp between his teeth and leaned forward.

"But with Croakie at my side, anything's possible! C'mon, Croakie! I'm gonna show you around the rest of the palace! Rayfa excitedly stated as she ran off with her new pet, leaving Inga alone.

"It does my heart good to see that girl happy. Now back to my life being unhappy…" Inga sullenly said as he slowly returned to his private quarters.

* * *

Later, in her audience chamber, Ga'ran sat on her throne, her cheek resting on her fist as she looked across the room with a smug grin.

"Lah'kee, Lah'kee, by the throne, who's the loveliest royal ever to be known?" The queen playfully asked.

Lah'kee's posture stiffened as he raised his sword. "Your Emineeeence, Your Emineeeence, it's clearly yooou! I don't know who else would dooo!"

Ga'ran brushed her fingers through her hair. "Good. Now back to the topic at hand: how to further ruin Inga's life. Lah'kee, do you have any suggestions?"

"Your Emineeeence, what if you have his boxers washed in lots of starch!? That way, he feels itchy and uncomfortable all day! It's the pain that keeps on being painful!"

"No. That would only serve to give our foolish husband a greater pain tolerance and would make our nights of pleasure less fun for us." Ga'ran cocked her head and rhythmically curled her fingers in contemplation. "…Perhaps something involving a hammer. We feel-"

Suddenly, Ga'ran's plotting was interrupted by the sound of Rayfa squealing outside of the audience chamber.

A scowl spread across Ga'ran's face as she let out a low growl. "How dare that insolent child interrupt our planning…!? Lah'kee! Go investigate the cause of Rayfa's disruptive behavior, posthaste!"

Lah'kee raised his sword. "Yes, Your Emineeeence!" The guard yelled before rushing out of the room.

* * *

When Lah'kee reached Rayfa, the young girl was busy showing Croakie one of the palace's many corridors.

"… And over here's another potted plant, and on the wall are several more pictures of Mother, and-"

"Yooour Benevoleeeence!" Lah'kee shouted, alerting the young girl to his presence.

"Hello, Lah'kee!" Rayfa chirped. "What brings you here? Shouldn't you be near Mother in case she needs a shoulder rub?"

"Your Benevoleeeence, I am here at the request of Her Eminence herself! She wants to know why you are making noises out here and disruptiiing her political dutiiiies!"

"I'm sorry, Lah'kee, I didn't mean to be disruptive. I was just showing Croakie here around the palace."

"'Croakiiie'?! Who is this Croakiiiie of whom you speak of!?" Lah'kee bellowed at the top of his lungs as his eyes frantically darted around the room in his search of Rayfa's friend.

"He's my new pet frog who I just found today, see?" Rayfa extended her palms, and by extension Croakie, towards the loudmouthed royal guard member. "Croakie, this is Lah'kee, Mother's shoulder rubber."

"Hellooo Croakiiie!" Lah'kee bellowed, to which Croakie responded to with a single croak.

"So Lah'kee, do you wish to join me in giving Croakie a tour of the rest of the palace?" Rayfa cheerfully asked.

"Negative, Your Benevolence! I have to return to Her Eminence with this new information! All praise the omnipotent Queen Ga'raaan!" Lah'kee yelled as he ran back in the direction of the audience chamber.

After a few seconds of silence to compose herself after Lah'kee's noisy exit, Rayfa continued Croakie's tour by approaching and holding the frog in front of a large painting.

"And this is a portrait of Mother in her prosecutor garbs riding Father like a horse. Though why Father is wearing no shirt, tight black pants, and has a small red ball in his mouth has always been a mystery to me; but whenever I ask Mother, she says that I'm too young, and when I ask Father, he gets all red in the face and quickly leaves the area…" Rayfa cocked her head to think about the strangeness of the portrait. "Do you have any idea about what Father's outfit in this portrait means, Croakie?"

The frog responded with a single croak.

"So you don't know either…?" Rayfa shrugged her shoulders. "Oh well…"

Rayfa continued on with the tour.

"And over there's yet another potted plant…"

* * *

Back in the audience chamber, Ga'ran was discussing her plans to increase Inga's overall misery with a royal guard.

"… And so, after much thinking, We have come to the conclusion that our best course of action would be to have that gaudy gold statue of himself that Inga keeps in his private quarters destroyed with a sledgehammer. Then, We will commission an even larger statue of ourself in-"

"Yooour Emineeeence!" Lah'kee bellowed, running up to his queen at full speed.

"it's place…" Ga'ran groaned, irritated at having been interrupted twice in the span of ten minutes. "Do you have a report for us on our daughter's recent behavior, Lah'kee?"

Lah'kee raised his sword. "Yes, Yooour Eminence! Her Benevolence has been giving Croakie a tour of the palace!"

"We are not familiar with this 'Croakie' of whom you speak of. Please specify."

"Yes, Your Emineeeence!" The Lah'kee bellowed. "Croakie is Her Benevolence's new pet frog! She- Aaaargh!" The royal shoulder rubber screamed as Ga'ran scratched her long fingernails against the arm of her gold throne, creating a loud, screeching sound which caused all the royal guards present to cover their ears.

When Ga'ran ceased her auditory assault, she glared daggers at her royal guards, her nostrils flaring as her left eye started to twitch.

"This… is… UNACCEPTABLE! Who would do such a thing behind our… INGA!" Ga'ran snarled as she slammed her right fist on the respective arm of her throne, causing it to slightly dent. "Only that pitiful, sniveling, plantain-endowed fool of a man would oppose us so! We'll deal with him later, but for now we have bigger frogs to fry!"

"Your Emineeeence! Why is it so bad if Her Benevolence owns a pet?!" Lah'kee loudly asked.

"Look, Lah'kee…" Ga'ran leaned forward while glaring at the shoulder rubber. "Pets provide companionship. Companionship leads to self-esteem, self-esteem leads to confidence, and confidence leads to happiness- something that We shan't allow Rayfa to experience while the Holy Mother's holy blood courses through our veins! You two…!" The spider queen pointed at two royal guards at the foot of her throne- one who was slightly taller and more than the others and one that was slightly shorter, stouter and resembled a potato. "Under the cover of night, find Rayfa's precious pet frog and dispose of it without alerting her. We wouldn't want her to be uncomplacent with us for a week over the life of a foolish frog."

"Yes, Your Eminence!" The guards said in unison as they raised their swords. "Ur dihara Ga'ran!"

* * *

At around midnight, after splitting up and searching the Royal Residence, the two guards regrouped in front of Rayfa's private quarters.

"You find it, Floon'kee?" The shorter guard asked.

"Negative. And were you successful, Scuul'eon?" The taller guard responded.

"Nope. Notta trace of that damn frog anywhere out here!" Scuul'eon crossed his arms and grunted. "I told ya it ain't a good idea to show up at the audience chamber line-up, but did ya listen to ya ol' friend Scuul'eon? Noooo..! It's referred to as 'optional' for a reason, dummy!"

"Not this again…" Floon'kee groaned, shaking his head. "How many times do I have to tell you this? If we don't go to the audience chamber line-up, Her Eminence won't even notice us when there's a promotion on the table."

"Oh, we's was noticed alright…" Scuul'eon growled. "What in Her Holiness' name possessed Her Eminence to pick the royal potata peeler and the mook with some girly job for old ladies?"

Floon'kee flashed his friend a scowl. "And just how exactly is my job as the royal schedule manager a girly one? I manage all of Ga'ran's appointments and activities- a duty which is most vital in maintaining political order and stability in our fine kingdom." The taller guard placed a thick hand on his chest as a smug grin spread across his face. "Why, if it weren't for me, Her Eminence could very well be mistakenly molesting Minister Inga at nine p.m. this coming Thursday instead of ten!"

Scuul'eon dismissingly waved his hand at his proud friend. "Yeah, yeah, yeah… Keep tellin' yourself that while doin' a job that was previously Nayna's."

Floon'kee rolled his eyes. "Coming from the guy who can't even say the name of the food he handles correctly."

"An' just what's wrong with how I say potata?" Scuul'eon huffed.

"Just that it's pronounce po-tah-toe."

"Says who?"

"Says everyone else in the world." Floon'kee retorted.

"You say potato, I say potata." Scuul'eon nonchalantly responded.

"Except that it's potato."

"Potata!" Scuul'eon huffed, glaring up at his taller friend.

"Potato!" Floon'kee glared down at his shorter pal.

"Potata!"

"Potato!"

"Potata!"

"Potato!"

"Potata!"

"Potato!"

"Potata!"

"Potata!" Floon'kee said with a sly smile on his face.

"Potato!"

"Potata!"

"Potato!"

"Potata!"

"Potato! And that's final! End of discussion!" Scuul'eon fumed.

"Glad you finally see it my way, Scuul'eon." Floon'kee sneered.

"Shaddup!" Scuul'eon growled. "We gotta frog to off an' Her Benevolence's private quarters are the last place we ain't checked." The stout guard picked the lock to Rayfa's door and quietly opened it. "We gotta be stealthy-like, so keep ya big mouth shut. Got it?" Scuul'eon whispered, to which Floon'kee nodded before the duo entered the house.

After searching most of the house, the duo made their way to the last room: Rayfa's bedroom; where, upon opening the door, they saw the little princess in a deep sleep, and on the dresser across from her bed, they saw their target sleeping in a glass tank.

"Like catchin' fish in a barrel…" Scuul'eon noted as he rubbed his hands together. "Alright, let's get in there, get that frog, an' get outta there nice an' quick. We do that, and we's in the clear."

"Right." Floon'kee responded with a nod of his head as the duo tiptoed into Rayfa's room and went over to Croakie's tank.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Floon'kee whispered, earning him a slap on the stomach from Scuul'eon.

"Whaddya mean 'how are we gonna do it'? Ya reach into the tank and grab the frog. It ain't spirit channelin'.

"Oh, because I thought that we were going to take the tank with us and I was kind of worried. Sure, I've been watching those meditation tapes that Abbot Inmee has been releasing, but my core isn't strong enough yet to lift a tank of that size."

Scuul'eon slapped his forehead and groaned. "I'm gonna pray for ya later… Now grab that frog!"

Floon'kee slowly reached into the tank and pulled out Croakie; but as soon as the frog was eyelevel with Floon'kee, it slipped out of his hands and jumped into his shirt, causing the royal guard to flail his arm as Croakie, in the form of a bulge, frantically moved on Floon'kee's torso looking for an escape.

Scuul'eon grabbed the sided of his head. "Whaddya doin', ya goober!? Your gonna wake up the princess!" The stout guard quietly snarled.

"It's not my fault, Scuul'eon! It slipped out of hands. Help!" Floon'kee quietly panicked.

"Don't worry; I got ya back…" Scuul'eon picked up a tennis racket off of the floor and proceeded to repeatedly whack Floon'kee in the torso with it, managing to miss Croakie with every swing.

"Stand still, ya putz! I can't get it if ya keep movin' like that!" Scuul'eon quietly growled.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, there's a frog doing the Hokey Pokey in my shirt. So excuse me if I'm not very statuesque!"

Suddenly, Croakie jumped out of Floon'kee's sleeve and onto Scuul'eon's face, causing the pudgy guard to start panicking and flailing his arms as the frog clung to his face like gum on the bottom of a shoe.

"Aaah! Get it off! Get it off!" Scuul'eon demanded as he ran around the room like a headless chicken.

Without hesitation, Floon'kee thought of and executed a solution in the form of grabbing various stuffed animals near Rayfa's bed- including, but not limited to, a yellow frog, a red crocodile, and a green beaver- which had no effect other than making Scuul'eon angrier.

"Quit messin' around and get this stinkin' frog offa me, ya buffoon!" Scuul'eon snapped.

Floon'kee quickly opened up Rayfa's closet, and upon checking its contents, quickly pulled out a large plastic case that's used to hold comforters while unknowingly causing a roller-skate to fall out onto the floor next to him.

Floon'kee then threw the plastic case over Scuul'eon's torso and lifted his friend over his shoulder as the other man's stubby legs flailed about.

"I did it, Scuul'eon! I got it!" Floon'kee boasted.

"Yeah, but ya also got me! Let me outta here!" Scuul'eon commanded as he rapidly punched his taller companion's torso."

Floon'kee slowly made his way out of the room. "Hold your horses, Scuul'eon. I'll let you out when we're outside her Ben-" The taller guard was interrupted as he inadvertently stepped on the roller-skate, causing him to fall back, throwing Scuul'eon and Croakie backwards, resulting in the stout guard and frog breaking through the glass door leading to Rayfa's veranda and flying over the edge, ending with them landing on the ground outside with a thud.

Floon'kee quietly gasped. "Scuul'eon!" The taller guard looked over at Rayfa and noticed that she was still sound asleep. "Wow, Her Benevolence is one heck of a sleeper. Great, now I forgot what I was doing…" Floon'kee snapped his fingers. "Oh right, now I remember… Scuul'eon!" The taller guard rushed out onto the veranda and looked down, where the case containing Scuul'eon slightly twitched.

"Scuul'eon, are you okay?" Floon'kee whispered.

"Yeah… I'm fine… At least the frog's dead…" Scuul'eon grunted in agony. "Just get down here quickly and quietly."

"Right." Floon'kee jumped off of the veranda and landed on top of Scuul'eon.

"I hate you… I really do…" Scuul'eon growled.

* * *

The next morning, Inga was nestled in the warm embrace of his satin covers, dreaming sweet dreams of Ga'ran being struck down with holy lightning, when suddenly; he was jolted awake by a heavy weight slamming on his stomach.

"No, Ga'ran, it's too early for…" Inga felt a feeling of relief in seeing that Rayfa was the one who woke him up; but also a feeling of dread at the sight of her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks red, evident of her crying just recently, as her nose started to run. "Rayfa? What's wrong, sugar plum?" Inga asked as he gently wiped the stream of snot from Rayfa's nose with his finger.

"Well-well-well… I-I woke up this morning… and- and my room… it was devastated… My stuffed animals… scattered about…! And… And Croakie…! OH, CROAKIE!" Rayfa wailed at the top of her lungs, burying her face in Inga's gold satin pajamas as fresh tears flowed from her eyes.

Inga rubbed the back of his daughter's head. "Now, now, Rayfa. What happened to Croakie?"

Rayfa looked up at her father, her lower lip trembling. "He… He was kidnapped!"

"Kidnapped? Are ya sure about that, Rayfa?"

"Father… my room looks like a tornado blew through it, and Croakie's gone without a trace! What else could have happened!?"

At that moment, Nayna entered the room and shuffled over to the father-daughter duo.

"There you are, Your Benevolence. As the days go on, you keep getting quicker and quicker while these old bones of mine get stiffer and stiffer." Nayna chuckled before directing her attention to Inga. "I'm awfully sorry about the interruption, Minister Inga. I told Her Benevolence that you were sound asleep, but you know how she can be."

"Don't worry about it, Nayna. I'm actually glad that Rayfa came to me 'cause I'm gonna get Croakie back for her." Inga responded as he got out of bed.

"But Father, Croakie could be anywhere in Khura'in. How do you expect to find him?" Rayfa meekly asked.

Inga grinned at Rayfa as he picked up his cigar stamp and clenched it between his teeth. "Don't underestimate the Minister of Justice, Rayfa. Not only do I know where Croakie is, but I know who took him, and I'm gonna give them a piece of my mind! So just sit tight and you and Croakie will be back together before ya know it."

Rayfa ran over to Inga and hugged his leg. "Oh, thank you, Father! You are the best father- nay! The best _man_ to ever exist! Now go get them, Father!" Rayfa cheerfully ordered Inga as he proudly marched out of his private quarters.

* * *

In Ga'ran's audience chamber, the queen sat on regal throne as she discussed matters of the utmost importance with Lah'kee.

"In regards to our husband transgression of allowing Rayfa a pet, We've been thinking and feel that the best course of action is not to destroy his statue, but to only allow him to only eat Taste None cereal from now on. Yes… every bland, wooden flake that our foolish husband chokes down shall be a constant reminder of what happens when you choose to mess with us." Ga'ran smirked.

"Your Emineeeence! That idea is as perfect as you are!" Lah'kee loudly responded.

"GA'RAN!" Inga yelled as he marched right up to his wife.

"Speak of the Dhurke. Inga, what brings you here at this time in your jammies? Do wish for me to prepare you a snack…" Ga'ran flashed Inga a sultry grin. "or do you wish to give me one?"

"Ga'ran, I ain't in the mood for this right now. I need to talk to you, so tell your little lapdogs to take a hike!" Inga sternly ordered through clenched teeth as he bit down on his cigar stamp.

"Fine, but only out of sheer curiosity." Ga'ran raised her arm. "Guards, please leave the chamber so that we may talk with our husband…"

"Ur dihara Ga'ran!" The guards said in unison as they raised their swords before leaving the room in an orderly fashion.

"So Inga, as I asked before, what brings you-"

"Where's Croakie's corpse, Ga'ran?" Inga curtly asked.

Ga'ran cocked her head. "What?"

"Rayfa's pet frog that she got yesterday. I know you killed it, so where's the corpse?"

"Inga, what reason would I, the Queen and Grand Priestess of Khura'in, have to kill a mere frog?"

"'Cause Croakie gave Rayfa joy- something that you'd chase into the woods and shoot down on sight if it was a living, breathing creature! So after over 20 long, painful years of marriage to you, I know that Croakie was either killed by your lapdogs or you tortured it until it killed itself, see! And since it didn't have a look of psychological trauma in its eyes that only you can give, I'm going with the latter. So I'll ask you once more: Where's Croakie's corpse? I don't wanna have Rayfa stumbling on it."

"You got me, Inga. Yes, I had Rayfa's pathetic frog killed. But that's not going to bring Croakie back to life now, is it?"

"Listen, hag of the mountain, I don't have to bring Croakie back to life because Rayfa thinks that its merely kidnapped; so all I've gotta do is go out and buy her a new frog and you'll fail at your plans like how you've failed at spirit channeling!" Inga sneered.

Ga'ran narrowed her eyes into a fierce glare. "Well, you of all people should know what failure looks like, Inga, considering that you have failed to make me orgasm for over a quarter of a century!"

"Hey, maybe I'd be more motivated if you were actually attractive, see? Plus, it would probably help if you'd actually let me face you for once."

"You know what the difference between you and an egg is, Inga? An egg is done in more than three minutes and it doesn't cry when it's beaten!"

"Sticks and stones, Ga'ran. Point is that I win, you lose. Score one for Inga Karkhuul Haw'kohd Dis'nahm Bi'ahni Lawga Ormo Pohmpus Da'nit Ar'edi Iz Khura'in III." Inga smirked. "So what does that bring my victory score up to, Ga'ran?"

"One point for you, and 467,921,532 for me." Ga'ran smugly replied. "But your victory this day is meaningless because I'll simply have this new frog disappear as well."

"You make Croakie disappear, and I'll just make him reappear. So feast on them apples!"

"Ah, but I can simply break the cycle and tell Rayfa the truth about her precious little frog by recovering the body and-" Ga'ran was interrupted by Inga's cellphone ringing, which he answered and put on speaker.

"Speak to me, Captain." Inga said.

"Minister Inga, the secret police have found the frog's body buried outside the temple and are preparing to burn it. C Squad has completed their objectives and is en route to the palace."

"What!" Ga'ran dug her fingernails into the arm of her throne. "When-"

Inga chuckled. "Like I said, Ga'ran, a man learns things after living with you for so long. So while I kept you busy with our argument, my boys were able to complete my plan without you sticking your fat nose in it. Another point for the minister with a wife that's sinister!"

"Two points, Inga, that's double your length when erect." Ga'ran sneered, a grin spreading across her face as Inga flinched. "And with that, my score is now 467,921,533."

* * *

Later, Rayfa was still sitting on Inga's bed, lightly sobbing as Nayna tried to comfort her.

"Now, now, Your Benevolence. Don't cry. Your father's going to be back any minute now." The 'elderly' woman said as she stroked her hand through Rayfa's hair.

At that moment, as if on cue, Inga popped his head inside his private quarters.

"Hey Rayfa, someone's here to see ya!" Inga stated as he entered the room, showing Rayfa the frog in his hand.

"Father!" Rayfa chirped, a smile forming on her face as she ran over to Inga and took the frog out of his hands. "Oh, Croakie! How I missed you so!" The little princes said as she hugged what she thought was her original pet. "Father, where was he?"

"Well, using my connections as the Minister of Justice, I was able to determine that Croakie was being held hostage by the Defiant Dragons in the Bazar. So me and a few of my boys went over there to arrest the thugs; but you wouldn't believe what we found: Croakie had incapacitated his captor went out and bought you a present. Speaking of which…" Inga took out a bouquet of flowers and gave them to Rayfa.

"Thank you, Croakie! They're beautiful!" Rayfa cheerfully stated as she sniffed the flowers before putting Croakie down on the bed next to her and hugging Inga. "Thank you for saving Croakie, Father. I love you!"

"I love you too, Rayfa. And as long as I'm around, I'll always be there to protect you."

* * *

Nine years later in the High Court of Khura'in, Rayfa angrily paces back and forth as she dares daggers into the gallery, which consists of Apollo, Nahyuta, and Datz.

"Horn Head, Braid Head, Buzz Cut Head, do you know why I called you here?" Rayfa asks.

"To tell us how you can only give us nicknames based in our hairstyles?" Datz responds before bursting out into laughter.

Rayfa growls. "If that's how you feel, then perhaps you'd prefer the name Monkey Mouth instead." The princess sneers, causing Datz to stop laughing.

"I'm sorry, Your Benevolence, but I fear that I don't know why you wanted the three of us here." Nahyuta calmly chimes in. "Care to explain?"

"Fine. Do you know what THIS is!?" Rayfa angrily askes as she pulls out a plastic bag containing a dead, flattened frog in it.

"Lunch!?" Datz excitedly askes before licking his lips.

"No, you sick barbarian!" Rayfa yells.

"… A frog?" Apollo hesitantly replies.

"Not just any frog, Horn Head, my beloved childhood pet, Croakie! You see, Mother and I were walking through the Royal Residence, enjoying the lovely weather when lo and behold, we found Croakie flattened in the middle of the path like a leaf beneath the deer's hoof. And so, knowing that you three were the only ones besides us to enter the courtyard today, Croakie's murder has to be one of you. So, which one of you three nincompoops murdered my dear friend Croakie?"

Rayfa glares at the three men, pointing her staff at them as they just sat there in silence.

"In the end, it matters not if any of you admit to your crimes, for Croakie's mitamah will tell me the full story..."

Rayfa puts her staff off to the side and removes her robe before proceeding to perform the Divination Séance. However, during the ritual, instead of seeing Apollo, Nahyuta, or Datz, Rayfa sees Floon'kee showing a mattress case over Croakie before accidentally throwing him over the veranda, resulting in him getting crushed as the image went black and the word 'Pain!' appears in large red letters.

Rayfa just stood there completely gobstruck, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

"W-What the-" Rayfa sputters out but is interrupted as another vision appeares in the Pool of Souls.

Then, one after another, as if watching a home movie, Rayfa sees about 16,586 death scenes, including, but not limited to: Scuul'eon smashing Croakie with a hammer, Floon'kee bludgeoning Croakie with his day planner, Croakie accidently getting crushed under a sleeping Inga as the Minister of Justice rolls over after she placed her frog on his bed, Ga'ran stabbing Croakie with her long fingernails, and Croakie standing in Bazar before Datz picks him up and eats him- the lattermost one causing the group to flash Datz looks of pure disgust.

"What? I was hungry and thought that it was one of those Granny Smith apples they have back in the States!"

As the last scene ends, Rayfa's shoulders slump, her complexion paling and her breathing becoming shallow, as she turns to face the group.

"How… Why… What-what in the Holy Mother's name is this supposed to mean?" Rayfa shakily asks.

"Uh, Your Benevolence, there's another scene forming in the Poll of Spirits." Nahyuta points to the pool, where another scene is starting to take form.

In this new scene, Croakie is standing in the middle of the main path in the Royal Residence when suddenly, Apollo, who is running through the area while checking his watch, trips on a loose stone and falls on Croakie, killing him before the scene ends.

This new scene causes Rayfa's face to gain some color in the form of red as she glares daggers at Apollo and clenches her fits, causing her knuckles to go white.

"Horn Head…! You… YOU… NINCOMPOOP! How dare you kill Croakie in broad daylight and then refuse to confess to your crimes!?"

Apollo's horns start to droop as his face becomes drenched in sweat. "Wait, but what about the other 15 thousand or so other deaths. By that logic Croakie was-"

*ka-tonk!*

"Ow!" Apollo yells as Rayfa punched him.

"We are not here for those murders, Barbed Head! We are here for this one and _you_ are the culprit! Prepare to face your punishment for your sins!" *ka-tonk!* Rayfa angrily proclaims as she punches Apollo again.

"Wait, I can explain! I-"

*ka-tonk!* *ka-tonk!* *ka-tonk!"

"Hold it!"


	6. All's Fair in Love and Forced Marriage

**A/N:** Hey guys, time for a belated Valentine's Day special with everyone's favorite Khura'inese royal family; though there's one thing you should know before reading: this chapter takes place on December 11, 2027, so Rayfa is 13 in this one. I couldn't find a good place to state this, so I decided to put it here for reference. With that said, enjoy the chapter!

* * *

December 11th has always been a day of great joy for the people of Khura'in. For on this day, the Khura'inese butterflies flock en masse to the mountain range near Mt. Poniponi to mate, coloring the sky a mix of vivid pinks and purple- a truly breathtaking sight for those who witness it. That's why this day is known as Mitamah Day and is viewed as a day of love and romance, a day where couples shower each other with gifts, go on romantic walks up the mountains, and snuggle as they watch defense attorneys getting beheaded; making it not all that different from Valentine's Day in the West.

Yes, it's a wonderful day where people enjoy life to the fullest… unless your name is Inga Karkhuul Khura'in, who would always spend the day stuck in his private quarters doing paperwork and dreading any sexual advances from his dominatrix black widow of a wife; for not only was this a day with love as its epicenter- something that Ga'ran had managed to weaponized against Inga and would use against him on a weekly basis- but also their wedding anniversary, the worst day of Inga's life.

* * *

"Stupid Mitamah Day…" Inga grumbled to himself as he stamped an execution paper and put it on a pile in the corner of his desk. "Stupid Ga'ran, forcing me to hide in this room like a dog...! Though it's not like things are any better at work with my love-struck goons. I swear, the second Mitamah Day rolls around, it's as if every stinkin' member of this country's police force loses their spine!" Inga raised his hands and started doing high-pitched impersonations of his pathetic subordinates. "'Oh, I've gotta go pick up flowers for my honey-pie!', 'Oh, I should end the day early and have a picnic with my lil' boo-boo-bumpkin!', 'Oh, I should have a romantic candlelit dinner followed by a night of passionate lovemaking with my yummy-wummy-gummy-sugar-puss-tootsie-doll-face-daffodil-lollipop!"

Inga growled as he throws his stamp on his desk. "What the Ga'ran's palace! Why are those guys so love-struck? Haven't they learned the evils of romance after being forced to watch that sex tape showcasing the nightmare that was my wedding night- an unholy byproduct of this damn holiday!?" Inga pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh. "Maybe the boob tube can help get my mind off today…" The Minister of Justice noted as he got up from his desk and plopped down on his bed, grabbing the remote control off of his nightstand and turning on the television.

On the current program, a large, muscular man with flowing, long black hair stood in the middle of a busy street, clutching the hand of a shapely woman wearing a tight black dress who was much smaller than he was.

"Oh, Gertrude! My love for you is brighter than a million stars and deeper than the deepest of oceans! I would wander the hottest of deserts, the coldest of tundras, and busiest of discount stores a thousand times over with no hesitation if it would allow me even a brief second of staring into your heavenly green eyes! Please tell me that you feel the same for me, for surely I would die a slow, painful death without your warm embrace!" The man overdramatically said, a tear streaming down his cheek as he got down on one knee.

"Oh, Harold!" The woman wailed, tilting her head upwards as she put the back of her hand on her forehead. "My heart screams the same and more; but alas…! My father…! He would never let us be together, for he is the leader of the Osaba Waba Kingobo Robot Pastry Chef Ninjas, the sworn enemies of your father's band of polar bear-riding Feline Viking Pirates who play basketball on the weekends! Alas, dear Harold! Our love has been cut down in its prime- like a fallen leaf; it has been crushed beneath the iron-shod feet of a cold, cruel, uncaring world!"

"Then run away with me…!" Harold proclaimed, his cheeks glowing red with passion. "Run away with me to Milan where we can love each other without fear of the wrathful, ever-vigilant eyes of our warring families!"

"But, Harold! What about your job as a real-estate agent/poet? And what of my father? I can't just leave him and break his heart!"

"But what about _MY_ heart!? Can't you hear how it beats for you like a tom-tom drum?! If our families can't accept our pure, beautiful love, then they are all dead to me! As for work, we'll open up a produce stand on the Boulevard, next to the fountain- just like the one we discussed about in the coffeehouse on that rainy Tuesday afternoon."

"Oh, Harold!"

"Oh, Gertrude!"

The couple embraced and proceeded to engage in a sloppy, passionate kiss, prompting Inga to roll his eyes.

"Oh, my stomach... I swear, _Moments of Our Days_ gets cheesier with each passing season. Let's see what else is on…"

Inga changed the channel to a movie depicting a girl with a bob cut wearing a white dress with pink polka dots standing in an alley between two stereotypical greasers- complete with white t-shirts, black leather jackets, and large greasy black pompadours.

"Ay! Dean, you can't go hittin' on Denise! She's my gal!" The rail-thin adolescent standing in front of the girl stated with his arms outstretched.

"I didn't see no sign on her sayin' she was yours, so she's not yours, Alex! OH!" The pudgier boy with baby cheeks standing behind the girl retorted, pointing both fingers out as if he was directing air traffic.

"Ay ay ay! I don't need no sign 'cause our relationship is set in stone! We smooched at the Snowball Dance- just ask Steve, Petey, or Crustache Chris."

"That's nothin'! We shared an ice cream float down at Arty's, which includes whip cream and a cherry." Dean smugly retorted with a smirk and crossed arms.

Alex limply waved his hand in dismissal. "Oh please, she only did that 'cause she felt sorry for you. As for me, Denise introduced me to her ma who said, for all to hear, that I am the best boy that she has ever met and that I was made for her daughter. Did Denise introduce you to her ma?"

"Well… Well…" Dean stammered, his face growing red with irritation. "Well, I own a Cadillac!"

"Oh, like your lame-ass caddy holds a candle to the Mercedes."

"Well at least my Cadillac doesn't smell like it was ****** by a candy cane, unlike your Mercedes!" Dean retorted.

Alex rolled up his sleeves as his nostrils flared. "Oh, you wanna fight!? You wanna fight!?" The skinny greaser yelled as he marched towards the pudgier adolescent.

"Bring it on!" Dean angrily bellowed as he puffed out his chest and spread out his arms.

"Hold on, boys." Denise assertively sated, extending her arms to the side in order to separate the two adolescents. "You wanna fight for my heart, then you gotta do it like men- with dance."

"Alright." Alex smirked before repeatedly squatting while pumping his fists in the air. "Like what you see? Compared to these sweet moves, Dean's as dry as his ma's lasagna!"

"Oh! Now you're gonna get it!" Dean yelled as he put his hand behind his head and proceeded to repeatedly pelvic thrust.

"Why am I even watching this?" Inga asked himself before changing the channel to an episode of the _Plumed Punisher_.

In the current scene, the evil version of Dhurke from the show- complete with his crimson-red eye, large horns, pointed teeth and ears, and oversized silver hook on replacing his left hand- stood atop the peak of Mt. Poniponi with his second-in-command, Datz Are'bal- who the show portrayed as a short, hunched-over man with a goiter hump, a left eye the size of an eight ball and a normal-sized right one, and a long forked tongue hanging out of the right side of mouth. And behind the two men was a large computer with a large butterfly net-like device mounted on top.

"Mwahahaha! Enjoy your Mitamah Day while you can, pathetic fools of Khura'in, because it will be your last after I execute my FIENDISH MASTER PLAN! Datz, activate The Device!" Dhurke bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Yesss, Masssta Dhurke! Datz wills obey!" Datz said with a voice scarily similar to that of Gollum from _Lord of the Rings_ as he clicked a few keys on the device's keyboard.

Suddenly, the device became active, sweeping the net across the nearby mountain range, trapping each and every butterfly and sending them into a large jar at the device's base.

"Mwahahaha! Excellent! Without the butterflies, the land of Khura'in will be left without love- a void that I will immediately fill with the spirit of revolution!" Dhurke proclaimed with sinister glee, raising his fist in the air as an over-the-top explosion went off in the background, prompting Datz to enthusiastically clap and pant.

"Yesss! Yesss, Masssta! Unleash the pretty, pretty unyielding dragon upon the peopleses! Rain fire and death from above like springtime rainsies on the flower!"

"I wouldn't be so sure of myself if I were you, traitor!" A female voice yelled off in the distance.

"Who dares to defy the great and all-powerful Dhurke Sahdmadhi, the infamous unyielding dragon?!" Dhurke snarled as he scanned the area.

"Funny, because all I see is a dirty viper hiding in the brush." The Plumed Punisher sneered as she appeared on top of one of the nearby mountains.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my old nemesis, the Plumed Punisher… Come back to relive the shame of Mitamah Days past?" Dhurke sneered.

"You might have kidnapped me when I was a young girl and subjected me to your vile genesplicing experiments; but by fusing my DNA to that of Lady Kee'ra's, you have created your undoing!" The Plumed Punisher stated as she jumped down from the mountain peak onto the summit of Mt. Poniponi with Dhurke and Datz. "Cease your plans now or the only chance you'll have to yield will be before the Holy Mother Herself!" The heroine threatened as she pulled out her dagger and assumed her battle stance. "And trust me; Her Holiness shan't be a merciful as I."

"Mwahahaha! If the Holy Mother is as weak and stupid as my late wife Amara, then I have nothing to fear; but if you love the Holy Mother so much, then allow me to introduce you to her personally. Defiant Dragons, give the Plumed Pity here a one-way ticket to the Twilight Realm!" Dhurke shouted as he pointed at the Plumed Punisher, prompting a dozen Defiant dragons, who more or less resembled ninjas, to appear in several puffs of black smoke before charging at the heroine with outstretched arms.

Though despite their best efforts, the goons were swiftly defeated with a few flashy punches and kicks from the Plumed Punisher, rendering them unconscious.

Datz, who was hopping up and down like a person standing on hot concrete, tugged on his boss's sleeve while pointing to the limp, motionless bodies of his comrades. "Masssta Dhurke! Ssshe whop-whop Defiant Dragonsss! What we do now?"

"I'll tell you what we'll do: play hardball! Second wave, attack!" Dhurke bellowed, prompting at least 50 Defiant Dragons to appear before the heroine.

As the Plumed Punisher was busy fighting the next wave of minions, Dhurke's hook morphed into a cannon aimed straight at the heroine.

"Say your prayers, Plumed Prissy!" Dhurke smirked as he fired the cannon at the Plumed Punisher, hitting and entangling her in a silver net that, despite her best efforts, she could not free herself from.

Dhurke proceeded to saunter over to the Plumed Punisher, who, much to his delight, was wriggling and writhing in the net like a freshly-caught trout. "Squirm all you want, Plumed Pity, that net is made of pure, 100% Dhurkium- an element that I had my lab boys develop to neutralize your Kee'ra DNA and render you powerless."

"I'll never be powerless, Dhurke, for my strength doesn't come from Lady Kee'ra, but from my devotion to the people of Khura'in!" The Plumed Punisher snapped.

"Mwahaha! Save that load of malarkey for when you meet the Horrid Mother." Dhurke said as his cannon morphed into a gun.

"Favorite part of the episode coming up in three, two, one…" Inga counted off on his fingers, a grin forming on his face as he leaned back on his bed to get comfy.

"Not so fast, Dhurke...!" A loud, booming, authoritative voice bellowed off in the distance, causing both Inga and Datz to flinch.

"No! It can't be…!" Dhurke cursed through clenched teeth.

"Minissster of Jussstice Inga!" Datz wailed as he literally shook in his boots.

"That's right, vile cur, it is I, Minister Inga Karkhuul Khura'in…!" Inga- who was depicted as insanely muscular, chiseled, and well-endowed man with a voice as smooth as silk- proudly proclaimed as he marched up to the mountain's summit. "And your end is nigh!" The minister stated with an assertive finger-point, creating a powerful gust of wind that knocked Datz over.

"Ha! Not if my Defiant Dragons have anything to say about it! Oh, boys…" Dhurke snapped his fingers, prompting his minions to charge at Inga.

"Nice try, Dhurke, but your ruffians are no match for the intelligence and strength of Khura'in's noble, benign police force. Now men, show them what happens when you go against our glorious nation!" Inga boldly ordered as an army of futuristic-looking police officers in spotless white outfits stormed the summit and proceeded to fight the Defiant Dragons, leaving Inga to deal with Dhurke.

"You're done, Dhurke! Note your surroundings- there's nowhere to run. Just turn yourself in and our wise, benevolent queen will have mercy on your soul and will try her hardest to help you reform your evil ways. So, what do you say?"

Dhurke sniggered, a toothy grin forming on his face. "And stop my plans for conquering this puny kingdom? Not a chance! A dragon never yields…" The rebel leader's hook morphed into a sword. "even with his dying breath."

Inga shook his head. "I may be a gentle scholar at heart, but you've forced my hand." Inga said as he took his cigar stamp out of his mouth and held it at his side, causing a green laser of spiritual energy to emerge from its tip.

Inga and Dhurke then proceeded to engage in an epic sword fight with much jumping, side-stepping, and guttural screams. Suddenly, the real Inga's television watching experience was interrupted by Rayfa, with red cheeks and tears streaming down her face, wailing as she stormed into his private quarters and jumped on his lap; burying her head into the Minister's shoulder and drenching it with tears. Inga, seeing his daughter in distress, turned off the television and stoked the back of Rayfa's head.

"Rayfa, what's with the tears? And shouldn't you be with your mother at Mt. Poniponi for the Mitamah Day Ceremony?"

"I- I was, Father, and I was enjoying it… until… until this boy showed up…" Rayfa sniffled, swiping a hand across her face to wipe away her tears.

"A boy…?" Inga growled, his rage building up at the prospect of some gutter trash brat breaking his sweet little princess' heart. "What's his name and what does he look like!? Because when I'm through with him, he'll be regretting the day he ever chose to hurt you, see!"

Rayfa shook her head. "No, Father, he was a very nice boy. I'm upset at what Mother did… The things that she told him…"

 _Please tell me that Ga'ran didn't…_ Inga shook his head to get rid of the bad thoughts that were brewing in the darkest corners of his mind. "So what happened?"

"Well, Mother and I were attending the ceremony, watching the butterflies majestically flying from mountain to mountain in a breathtaking display. Mother didn't whisper under her breath that my ugly face would scare the butterflies away- so that was a plus. And as we were greeting the people, a tall, handsome boy with nice, combed hair and the cutest little dimples you could possibly imagine approached me. We talked for a bit, having a pleasant conversation on a variety of topics- my experiences with the Divination Séance, our favorite stalls at the bazaar, and the _Plumed Punisher_ , to name a few- and ending with him asking me, like a gentleman, if I wished to take a stroll through the bazaar with him. I was about to take him up on his offer when, out of nowhere, Mother laughed and said 'We must be getting out of touch with beauty standards in this nation. For since when did short and under-endowed become the new tall and voluptuous?'."

"Aw, I'm sorry, Rayfa…" Inga said with a touch of pain in his voice.

"Oh, and it gets worse, Father!" Rayfa fumed as tears started to well up in her eyes. "Mother then went on to tell that boy nasty lies about me- like how I refuse to bathe, or how I have webbed toes!" The princess wailed as she resumed her crying. "F-Father! Why must Mother be so mean to me?!"

"I don't know what to say, Rayfa, that's just how your mother is. See, she's like one of those expensive chocolates- hard and fancy on the inside, and edible on the inside. She was probably trying to protect you in her own cold, aloof way." _Yeah, Ga'ran's like one of those fancy chocolates, alright- the gross coconut one that you want to throw away, but can't because the person who gave it to you will kick your ass if you do._

"No, _you_ try to protect me from boys. Sure, you may yell at them and spout deaths at them to make them cry, even making one boy wet himself, but you never belittle me. Mother, on the other hand, takes advantage of every opportunity to berate my appearance, insult my intelligence and skills, and strike me down when I start to develop even the slightest hint of self-confidence!" Rayfa yelled, clenching her fists as her left eye began to twitch.

 _Add in Ga'ran shoving her fist up where the sun doesn't shine at least four times a week and you have my life._ "Listen to me, Rayfa. Those insults your mother slings at you are false, see? She's just jealous that you have so much going for you: you're young, smart, and really making progress with your spiritual powers- not to mention, you're a beautiful girl who could have any guy she wants."

"Really?" Rayfa asked in a vulnerable tone, looking up at her father with big, green bloodshot eyes.

"Of course! Why do you think I'm so leery of boys? Why, when I was your age, if I saw a girl even half as pretty as you, I wouldn't have been able to contain myself. See, I wouldn't waste even a second going up to her and saying-"

"Father, this discussion is starting to become rather uncomfortable." Rayfa flinched.

"Right, sorry about that…" Inga said, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "Just got a bit carried away, see?"

"It's okay, Father, your kind words really helped brighten my mood. Thank you!" Rayfa chirped.

Inga chuckled as he ruffled Rayfa's hair. "Don't worry about it, Rayfa! I'd be a real crummy dad if I couldn't pick my little girl up when she's down! And don't ever hesitate to come to me if you have any concerns or questions. My door's always open."

"Okay, Father, so how did you and Mother meet?"

Inga flinched. "W-Why do you want to know ancient history like that?"

"Well, it's Mitamah Day, and I'm curious to know what it's like to find and experience true love. So, when did you and mother meet and how'd you know that you were destined to be together for the rest of your days?"

 _Easy. When a member of Amara's royal guard held a sword to my throat when the priest asked if I'd take Ga'ran's hand in marriage._ "Well, Rayfa, it's a long story, so I'll summarize it for you. See, it all started 26 years ago on this very day. I-"

"Father?" Rayfa interrupted.

"Yeah, honey?"

"26 years ago? But you would tell me when I was five that you were married to mother for over two decades. How is that possible?" Rayfa asked, cocking her head in confusion.

"Look, a year with your mother feels like about one and a half. That's why I created Ga'ran years- you know, like dog years."

"Oh, okay. Continue on then."

"As I was saying, it was 26 years ago on this very day…"

* * *

 **December 11, 2001 10:00 p.m.**

 ** _Behind Tah'veerne's Pub_**

I was 19 and had accomplished my dream of becoming a prosecutor a mere four months prior. I may have been relatively new to the legal world, but I possessed skills beyond my years. Armed with a quick wit and more bravado than even your mother's giant bloomers could hold, I was able to make a name for myself as the King of Convictions, on account of my high win record Yep, no attorney could even dream of holding a candle to me… except one.

His name was Dhurke Sahdmadhi, the very same guy who went on to kill Amara and form that meddlesome little terror group known as the Defiant Dragons. Now, if you think me becoming a prosecutor at 19's impressive, Dhurke became a defense attorney at age 18. So given that we were both talented attorneys, the Prosecutor's Office would always pit me up against ol' Dhurke in the courtroom.

Our trials were always heated and fierce; going on for days at a time with neither side giving an inch. That's how Dhurke developed that 'a dragon never yields' mantra, on account of him never giving up even when I had presented more than enough evidence proving the defendant's guilt. Poor Amara would have to do at least a hundred Divination Séances a day due to Dragon Boy's nitpicking. It soon got to the point where people started calling us the Ying-Yang Attorneys due to how our strategies were so similar, yet our purposes were so different- cancelling each other out like the light and the dark; but on that fateful Mitamah Day, little did I know that I would discover just how dark Dhurke truly was.

I was young, famous, and wealthy- the golden combination for any swinging bachelor to attract the ladies. So, with the desire to meet someone special, I went over to Tah'veerne's pub down by the bazaar for their annual Mitamah Day Celebration, where the drinks were half-off and the magatah'mans were free. But as for me, I never got to even enter the building, because before I could walk in through the front entrance, I heard a scream coming from the back. Now, most people would just pretend that they didn't hear anything and continue on with their lives, but not me! I was a man of justice and valor who would rather die than abandon someone in need! That's why I didn't even hesitate for a second to rush over and see what was wrong.

Well, good thing I did, because to my horror, Dhurke was gripping Amara's wrists and pushing her back against the building; grinning as a flare of sinister delight filled his eyes at the sight of the young queen squirming and begging for her life. But Dhurke was just as heartless and despicable then as he is now- threatening Amara to falsify the Divination Séance in court the next day so his guilty client could walk free. The nerve of that guy! Doing that in front of your mother, who was cowering off to the side as that brute bullied her older sister.

So with my finger pointed, I yelled "Hold it, Dhurke! Let Her Merciful go!", which prompted the villain to push her off to the side like a piece of trash as he glared at me, growling in frustration that I got in his way.

Dhurke then went on to chew me out- saying how I was a pansy, and that the only thing that matters in a trial is winning, and how I'd been a thorn in his side for too long and that he was going to get rid of me right there and then. Suddenly, Dhurke raised his hands, and, summoning the evil forces of the Devil, deceit, and telemarketing, fired bolts of blue lightning from his fingertips at me.

Thankfully, the Holy Mother was on my side, and with her powers I was able to counter Dhurke's demonic lighting with holy green bolts from my own fingertips, the two attacks meeting between the two of us in a ball of bluish-green energy. And for a bit, our powers were evenly match, with neither side giving an inch. Though unfortunately for me, that didn't last, for Dhurke drew deeper from his wellspring of telemarketing evils- trying to sell me a gym membership for a place that was 45 minutes away from my house and that I'd never use because I'd be too tired by the end of the day- and increased the intensity of his powers, causing his vile lightning to creep closer and closer to me despite my best efforts.

But even though Dhurke may have had the advantage, I wasn't giving up. I'm Inga, and I'd never go down to some punk like him without a fight, see! That's why I sent out a telepathic message telling every child in Khura'in to send me their energy; and thanks to those children, I was able to strengthen my attack and overwhelm Dhurke's- sending the ball of energy right back at him and engulfing his body in a mixture of spiritual energy and a sales pitch for an ab buster that everyone knows doesn't work.

And when the dust cleared, Dhurke was drastically weakened- his right eye blown out and his left arm completely paralyzed. He couldn't harm anyone any longer; bit before I could call the police and have him brought to justice for his dastardly deeds, the dirty snake used the last of his energy to throw a smoke bomb on the ground, covering the area in a thick black mist and fleeing the scene during the chaos.

I was then about to give chase after Dhurke, but I was quickly stopped by Amara who wanted to thank me for saving her and told me that she would grant me one favor- virtually anything that my heart desired. Now, being the humble man that I am, I told her that it was nothing and that she didn't have to do anything for me; but Amara wouldn't have any of that and demanded that she repay the favor to me somehow. And it was at that moment that Ga'ran ran up to me and grabbed my arm, insisting that I marry her.

Now, I may have not been exactly ready for marriage at the time, but who was I to deny a member of the royal family. And so, on that fateful Mitamah Day, I married your mother at the palace.

* * *

"And the rest was history. The end. So, did that story answer your question, Rayfa?" Inga asked.

"I'm a little confused, Father. If Dhurke was so mean to Aunt Amara, even threatening her wellbeing, how did he convince her to marry him?"

"Your aunt was called 'Her Merciful' for a reason, see? She was the kind of person who could forgive anyone for anything- even a lowdown crook like Dhurke. That, and Dhurke was always good at crying crocodile tears when he needed to. Heck, you should have seen how that blowhard would start blubbering like a baby whenever I'd whop him in court!" Inga sneered.

"Um, Father… Can I ask you for a favor?" Rayfa nervously asked, casting her eyes down at Inga's comforter.

"Ask away, I'm all ears."

"Is it alright if I stay here with you for a while, at least until Mother calms down? You know how cross she gets when someone leaves a gathering early."

"Don't I know it… So, wanna watch some t.v.? Maybe some _Plumed Punisher_? Inga suggested as he picked up the remote control.

A smile spread across Rayfa's face as her eyes filled with joy. "Must you even ask, Father?"

Inga turned on the television and proceeded to watch the episode of the _Plumed Punisher_ that he was previously watching, which was showing Inga using his cigar stamp/laser sword to destroy Dhurke's insidious device and free all the butterflies. And while it felt good to see Rayfa enjoying herself, laughing as she cuddled with him on the bed, Inga couldn't shake the horrible memories of what really transpired on the night he met and married Ga'ran as they flooded back to the front of his mind like a raging river.

* * *

 **December 11, 2001 10:00 p.m.**

 ** _Tah'veerne's Pub_**

A few points of Inga's story were correct: he was a young, famous prosecutor and Dhurke was his rival; but contrary to what he told Rayfa, Inga was by no means the assertive bulldozer-type person that she knew him as. In fact, Inga was very much the stereotypical nerd- rather introverted, dedicated to his studies, and would wear a brown suit no matter the occasion. Sure, he had a knack for soccer and was always the top player on his school's team, but when it came to anything above the knees, Inga was the very definition of awkward- his upper arms, which were usually pressed against his sides, made him look like a raptor, his posture was stiff like that of a toy soldier's, and he had the unfortunate habit of having slight bladder leakage whenever he was a little nervous. Not full-on soaked pants, but a little dripping that was noticeable only to those observing types who would not hesitate to announce it for the entire world, earning him the childhood nickname of Tinkle Tinga and plenty of hazing from the other kids. It also didn't help Inga's case that he was the type of person in his youth who was afraid of his own shadow and would respond to most conflicts by running away. However, when it came to court, Inga was a lean, mean prosecuting machine- never one to back down and quick to smash the defense's argument to pieces with solid evidence and/or the Divination Séance and/or a witness testimony.

Even going to Tah'veerne's Pub on Mitamah Day was something that Inga would never do had it not been for his new friend Dhurke dragging him there against his freewill. Yes, because Inga and Dhurke were pitted against each other for so many cases, Dhurke- being the kind of guy that he was- made it his goal to be Inga's friend and to help the shy prosecutor come out of his shell, which, was still a work in progress.

Tah'veerne's Pub, despite the name, was more of a dimly lit dance club rather than a bar, offering very little in terms of drinks but more than making up for it in the variety of music, which consisted of different genres from all around the globe. And no matter what time of year it was, the dance floor was always packed with people of all ages and sizes shaking what their momma's gave them; though the scene was much more intimate on Mitamah Day, with the bulk of the music being slow songs and the place being bathed in a pinkish-purple light.

Though amongst the crowd of excited youths trying to find love, Inga stood out like a sore thumb, nestled in a corner as his body twitched and his eyes nervously darted around the room- a direct contrast to Dhurke, who leaned back against the wall as he casually sipped on his ginger ale.

"D-Dhurke… I… I don't think I'm cut out for this. I'm going to go back home and kick around my soccer ball." The young prosecutor announced as he tried to make a dash for the exit, only for Dhurke to stop him in his tracks by placing a firm hand on his shoulder and turning the prosecutor around to look him in the eye.

"And miss out on the fun? The evening's still young, my friend, and this place is crawling with fine, fine ladies… Fine with a capital F and a capital INE!" Dhurke grinned as he gestured to the multitude of young, attractive women on the dancefloor.

"Easy for you to say, Dhurke. No girl worth her salt would ever waste her time on me." Inga sullenly commented, lowering his head in shame.

"Don't talk like that, Inga! You've got what it takes!"

"Oh? Last time I asked a girl out, she screamed in my face and kicked me in the crotch before running away in terror." Inga moped.

"Well, in her defense, you did jump out in front of her from an alley while yelling 'Love me!'."

"I couldn't help it! That's the only way I know how to make friends!" Inga facepalmed and let out a long dejected sigh. "Oh no… I'm going to die alone and nobody will know about it until my corpse is all gross and decayed two days later!"

"Buck up, Inga!" Dhurke stated, slapping the prosecutor on the back. "Now what am I always telling you?"

""If I scratch it, it's because it itches!'. But what does that have to do with picking up girls?" Inga asked with a look of confusion.

"Not that, the other thing: 'A dragon never yields.'" Dhurke said with a tone of authority, holding his arm outward and clenching his hand to make it look like a dragon's maw. "Even when wounded, a dragon bites down hard, and never lets go till its dying breath. It glares, it roars, and latches its jaws firmly onto its prey till the bitter end. That's how you find the truth in both court and love!"

"So I have to… bite them?"

"No! You have to be confident and determined! Girls can smell a defeatist attitude from a mile away and will never like a guy who doesn't like himself. Just show them the side of you that I see from the defense's bench- the one that's always fighting to the bitter end to debunk my zany claims. Where's _that_ Prosecutor Inga?"

"Busy at home sorting through the mountain of bluffs you said just this morning." Inga retorted. "Plus, do you really think that it's a good idea dating a girl that you meet at a dance club? Seems kind of… shallow, if you ask me."

"Nonsense! We just have to find you the right girl!" Dhurke turned Inga so that he was facing the dancefloor. "Now, which one of these fetching young women catches your eye…?"

As Inga scanned the room, he was shocked to see none other than Queen Amara sitting by herself at a table, enjoying a glass of lemon water.

"Her Merciful!" Inga exclaimed with wide eyes. "What's our nation's young queen doing in a place like this?"

"Answering my prayers to the Holy Mother." Dhurke looked upward and snapped his fingers with a grin to thank Her Holiness for doing him a favor before returning his sights to Her descendant. "Man, look at her… so graceful… so refined… so svelte… I wouldn't mind her channeling my spirit, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, she's really pretty." Inga meekly stated, his cheeks turning slightly red.

"Then go talk to her. Ask her out on a date!"

"Me? Talk to Her Merciful? Are you mad!?"

"Hey, you're a prosecutor, you've talked to her before, right?"

"Yeah…" Inga nervously scratched the back of his neck. "But that's strictly about the Divination Séance for the current trial, not about personal stuff. She wouldn't want anything to do with me outside of the courtroom."

At that moment, Amara waved to the duo and flashed them a sultry grin.

Dhurke slapped Inga's upper arm. "'Not interested', you say! She's digging you, man! She wants a flinga with Inga and to do something nasty with her finga!"

Inga shuddered at Dhurke's choice of wording. "First off: ew… And second: not that I doubt your 'elegant' wording or anything, but how do you know that smile wasn't for you? Or if it was just a sign of gas?"

Dhurke rolled his eyes. "Yes, Inga, because gassy people wave and give you bedroom eyes. Now quit stalling! She wants your dragon and she wants it now!"

"But what if I'm right and Amara has her royal guards come out of nowhere and beat me up? I don't think that it would help my image much if I'm prosecuting in a cast and as an enemy of the State." Inga wryly retorted.

"Look, if it'll make you feel better, if anything starts to go down, I'll jump in and help you; but we'll need a code word to make it sound less obvious- something that you'd use in day-to-day conversation. How about…" Dhurke cocked his head to the side and tapped his chin in contemplation. "cinnamon?"

"Fine. If anything goes awry, I'll yell cinnamon and you come in to get me out of there. But if I'm right and she's not into me, you're going to be making this up to me in spades by going five cases without bluffing!" Inga snapped.

"Scout's honor. Now get out there and make me proud!" Dhurke stated as he pushed Inga in Amara's general direction.

As Inga slowly made his way to Amara, he mumbled to himself about what he'd say to the queen, when suddenly, he bumped into Ga'ran, who was making her way back to her older sister.

"Hey! Watch where you're go-" Ga'ran's scowl morphed into a sultry smile upon noticing that the offending party was Inga. "Well, what do we have here? Prosecutor Inga being somewhere other than the Prosecutor's Office or the courtroom. Isn't this a treat."

 _Ugh! See, Dhurke!?This is what happens when I try to hit on girls. I go for the attractive sister and instead I get the ugly one! Okay, Inga, you've been through worse. No need to call in Dhurke yet; just act natural and slowly creep away…_ "Oh, uh, hi, Prosecutor Khura'in. Yeah, I came here with Dhurke… you know, cutting a rug, living life to the fullest and whatnot. Well, it's been nice talking with you, but I really have to go."

Inga tried to scurry away, but Ga'ran stopped him by grabbing his hand with a cast-iron grip that could give a bear trap a run for its money and pulled him towards her.

"Spare me the formalities, Inga, we're not in the Prosecutor's Office, so feel free to call me by my first name: Ga'ran!"

"Uh… Thanks, Ga'ran…" Inga said with a tone of hesitation.

Ga'ran proceeded to tightly hug Inga. "You know, the last time I saw you outside work was at my mother's funeral last month. You looked quite handsome then… just as you are now." The royal prosecutor purred.

"Yeah, real sorry about Queen Reepa'layce. She was a good ruler. It's a real shame that someone had the audacity to poison her drink. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go mourn for her somewhere that's not here." Inga tried to squirm out of Ga'ran's arms, but to no avail.

"Oh please, Mother wasn't all that great. Oh, she loved Amara to no end, but she couldn't care less about me. That's why my sister got to inherit the throne while I'm but a mere prosecutor! The nerve of that woman…"

"That's… That's too bad." Inga commented as he started to break out in a cold sweat.

"Ah, Prosecutor Inga, always one to be cordial to others… How cute… Now dance with me!" Ga'ran demanded as she started to violently rock Inga back and forth, who, thanks to his completely stiff posture, was more like a plank of wood than a dance partner. "You're a really good dancer." The royal prosecutor purred.

"Thank you." Inga nervously squeaked out.

"What's the matter, Inga? Do you require a beverage to wet your parched throat?"

"Yeah, Ga'ran, that'd be real swell. Maybe something with CINNAMON!" Inga yelled out, but after waiting a few seconds, Dhurke did not come.

"Yeah, CINNAMON may not be something that most people put in their drinks, but what can I say? I like CINNAMON!" Inga proclaimed, and much like the previous time, Dhurke was nowhere to be found.

"Inga, why you yelling 'cinnamon' at the top of your lungs? It's rather obnoxious." Ga'ran complained.

"I just can't help it that I like CINNAMON! CINNAMON'S my favorite! Can't get enough CINNAMON!" Inga bellowed at the lungs, only to once again be greeted with no Dhurke rescue party. _Where the hell are you, Dhurke…!?_

Inga scanned the room for his friend, only to find the Dragon Attorney talking to Amara- laughing and having a jolly good time while he left his friend to a fate worse than death.

 _That_ _ **ASSHOLE**_ _! Leaving me with crazy Ga'ran with her dominatrix outfit and spider hair just so he can get his unyielding dragon tamed!_ Inga thought to himself as he shot his 'friend' a death glare, which went completely unnoticed.

"You know, Inga, this may be the spirit of Mitamah Day talking, but something tells me that we were destined to be together. Wouldn't you agree?" Ga'ran asked as he pressed her head against Inga's chest.

"Well, the thing is, Ga'ran, I'm not really looking for a relationship right now."

"Then why are you out on the dance floor wearing a suit that complements your eyes?"

"Well, I wanted to speak with your sister-" Inga was cut off by Ga'ran shrieking and digging her long fingernails into Inga's chest. "Uh, Ga'ran, your kind of hurting me."

"Why am I not surprised? Everyone wants to speak with Amara because she _sooo_ pretty and nice and smart and understanding! But does anyone ever want to speak to me? Does anyone ever want to speak with Ga'ran!? NO! To everyone in this kingdom, I'm just Amara's little sister who's only use is to make her look better by comparison! It's just like when we were children and Mother would always tell me 'Why can't you wear your hair straight like Amara? She wears it so nicely.', or 'Oh, Ga'ran, you dance as clumsily as a warbaa'd is loud! Why can't you be as graceful as your sister?', or 'Stop torturing small animals, Ga'ran. You don't see Amara doing that, do you?'! Well newsflash: I'm pretty, I'm graceful, and I am a lovely person! What does my sister have that I don't!?" Ga'ran yelled, glaring daggers at Inga.

 _Oh, I don't know... friends, no restraining orders,_ _ **SANITY!**_ "N-Nothing! She has absolutely nothing on you!" Inga stuttered, terrified by the prospect of what an off response could do to him, given that Ga'ran's hands were digging into his side and that her knees were dangerously close to an area that he would prefer to leave untouched.

"Damn right, she doesn't!" Ga'ran fumed. "But after tonight, I'll have something that my sister doesn't: a husband! And guess who gets to be the lucky guy?" The royal prosecutor purred as she slowly stroked Inga's chest.

"Dhurke?" Inga asked with a combination of terror and hope in his voice, prompting Ga'ran to slap his chest.

"As if Dhurke could handle this much woman…!" Ga'ran sneered. "I'm talking about you. I've been watching you for some time now, Inga, and I have to say that I like what I see."

"I'm flattered that you feel this way, Ga'ran, I really am, but I'm just not ready for marriage just yet. It's not you, it's me."

"Nonsense! I am a catch and you _will_ marry me!" Ga'ran huffed.

"My answer to that is still no."

"Such insolence! I did not ask you if you wanted to get married, I _told_ you that you _were_ getting married. Now, come! Our wedding shall be at the palace!"

Ga'ran grabbed Inga's arm and proceeded to drag him towards the exit.

"Don't you think that things are moving a bit fast. Can't we at least court for a few months first?" Inga pleaded as he dug his heels into the ground.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? To risk Amara getting married first and showing me up? Not my watch! Plus, the sooner we get married, the sooner we get to the wedding night…" Ga'ran purred with a sultry grin, a slight malevolent tone in her voice.

"Well, it's not a wedding without CINNAMON! CINNAMON! CINNAMON! CINNAMON! CINNAAAAAAAAMOOOOOOOONNNN!" Inga wailed as Ga'ran dragged him to the exit; but before they could leave, Inga grabbed onto the doorframe and clung to it with all his might as Ga'ran tried to yank him off.

"Dhurke, you son of a bitch! I'll remember this and you'll pay! You'll regret the day that you betrayed me, Prosecutor Inga Karkhuul Haw'kohd Dis'nahm Bi'ahni Lawga Ormo Pohmpus Da'nit Ar'edi Iz III! I swear, I'll dedicate the rest of my days to watching you from the shadows, lying in wait until you mess up and then I will have your head! You hear that!? I'll kill you even if it's the last thing I do!" Inga angrily proclaimed.

Meanwhile, Dhurke was still sitting over with Amara, paying no mind to Inga.

"So, Amara… Want a demonstration of how a dragon never yields?" Dhurke amorously asked, to which Amara's only response was a giggle as her cheeks grew red.

"… And then when the dogs are finished eating your arms, I'll take what's left of your corpse and use it as a piñata!" Inga yelled as Ga'ran continued to try to pry him off of the doorframe.

"This is going nowhere. Oh, guards…" Ga'ran snapped her fingers, prompting two guards that Amara had appointed to protect her sister to come over and help the royal prosecutor pry her unwilling fiancé off of the door frame.

With Inga removed from the doorframe, the guards carried a squirming Inga out of the pub, with one holding his arms and the other holding his legs, as Ga'ran followed them over to a windowless van which she opened the doors to; allowing the guards to throw Inga in before closing the doors and driving off.

And the rest was history…

* * *

Inga was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by Rayfa tapping him on the shoulder.

"Father? Father, are you alright?" Rayfa asked with a look of concern on her face.

Inga rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, Rayfa, I was just think about some personal stuff… stuff involving Dhurke."

"Well, Father, the _Plumed Punisher_ just ended." Rayfa said as she pointed to the television, which was playing the end credits of the show. "So, what shall we do now?"

At that moment, as if on cue, Nayna burst into the room, a cold glare and furrowed brow on her face as she stormed over to Rayfa."

"I'll tell you what you're gonna do, Your Benevolence: You're gonna get your little butt right back to that Mitamah Day Ceremony this instant, young lady!" Nayna said in a no-nonsense tone as she waggled her finger at the princess.

"But Nayna! Mother was-"

Nayna slammed the end of her cane to the ground. "Save it, missy! Your mother is in a tizzy wondering where you are! Not to mention, you abandoned your people when they needed you! Do you think that's how a respectable princess should behave? Running off just because she faced a bit of adversity? You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Yes, Nayna…" Rayfa sullenly replied, lowering her head in shame.

"You're darn skippy you should! Now let's get back to that ceremony before Her Eminence has both our heads!" Nayna demanded, prompting Rayfa to quickly get off the bed and join Nayna's side. "Sorry about Her Benevolence disrupting your workday, Minister Inga."

"It's nothing, Nayna. I always enjoy spending time with my daughter!"

"Good, good… Say, Minister Inga, while I'm out, do you want me to pick up a nice beverage for you? Maybe one with cinnamon in it? After all, didn't you once say that cinnamon was your favorite?" Nayna sneered, causing Inga to growl as his left eye started to twitch.

As soon as Nayna and Rayfa left his private quarters, Inga pulled out his notepad and a pencil and turned to a page titled 'To-do List' and right between the tasks labeled 'kill Ga'ran, kill her good' and 'buy an ostrich', the Minister of Justice wrote down 'drown Amara and Dhurke in a large tank full of cinnamon'.


	7. Birthday Rubdown

It was June third and Inga's birthday. But unlike most people who get a party, cake, or happiness, for the past 21 years Inga received no definitive form of celebration. Not because the queen of Khura'in disapproved of them, but rather she wanted her husband to conserve his energy for later that evening, for that is when he'd have the 'honor' of being sexually graced by her, something that the Minster of Justice wouldn't wish upon his most despised enemy. Not even Dhurke, leader of the Defiant Dragons and the everlasting thorn in his side, deserved such a horrid fate.

The events of Ga'ran's 'intimate' night with her husband would proceed as such: Inga, tired from an exhausting day of completing his duties as Minister of Justice, would enter his dark private quarters and turn on the light, only to see Ga'ran, dressed in her prosecutor's outfit and brandishing her paddle, waiting on his bed, flashing him a sinister 'come hither' stare. Knowing what is about to go down, Inga would try to run for the exit in a pitiful attempt to escape this horrible fate, only for several members of the royal guard to block the exit while repeatedly chanting, "Pleasure him, Ga'ran!" The sadistic queen would then proceed to chase Inga around the room until he was cornered and tackle him down to the ground, where, like the infamous scene from _Deliverance_ , Ga'ran would jump on his back, slapping and commanding him to give her a ride, making the dehumanized minister squeal like a piggy as she 'pleased' him with a strap-on. Then, once satisfied, Ga'ran and her guards would leave the room as Inga lay on the floor in a fetal position, crying at the death of his manhood once more.

So how did Inga, the mighty Minister of Justice who had bought down many a fearsome rebel, decide to deal with this issue? Why, the only way any man in his situation would: by locking himself in his private quarters and doing his work for the day there so that his wife couldn't get the jump on him.

And that was how Inga ended up spending his 40th birthday trapped in his private chambers, like a bird in a cage, stamping execution papers at his desk. Though on the bright side, to Inga this was one of the best parts of his career because he would visualize that he was hitting Ga'ran's face.

"That's for never approving of my friends!" Inga yelled, stamping a paper before shoving it into his 'completed' pile. "That's for making me have a freakin' vegetable of the week!" The Minister of Justice complained as he stamped the next form and got another one ready. "And this is for always making me your damn man-bitch on my birthday and high holidays! What, I'm not allowed to be happy in our relationship!? Why did that bastard Dhurke luck out and get the hot sister who actually put out while I was stuck with the one with a wizard's sleeve as cold as her personality?" Inga bemoaned as pounded his fist on his desk.

Suddenly, his body stiffened as he was snapped out of his self-loathing by a few light taps against his door.

"Help me, Holy Mother; Ga'ran's starting early this year. But let's see how frisky she's feeling after she meets my new friend here…" Inga sneered as he pulled out his newly-purchased four-shot revolver.

Inga quietly got up from his chair and snuck over to the door, creeping on his tippy toes in a style similar to that of the Grinch in order to keep the element of surprise on his side. Once there, the Minister of Justice paused for a few seconds to ponder his next course of action, his fingers fidgeting in anticipation.

Would he kill Ga'ran? Of course he would! Inga killing Ga'ran was as matter-of-fact as someone wanting to buy a house. But like with buying a home, the main issues that Inga faced were choosing from his options and doing so at the right time.

Given all of the resources available to him, Inga's first choice would be good, ol' fashion poison- quick, clean, and virtually untraceable if executed properly. But in a prime situation like this, the Minister of Justice would be a fool not to shoot Ga'ran on the spot. Granted, she would usually have her loudmouthed royal guard with her for her Inga birthday ambush, but that was during the evening. This, on the other hand, was during the early afternoon- a time of day when Inga was spryer and therefore more amusing for Ga'ran to overpower on her own. So if Inga were to unload four bullets into the little, black vat of acid where his wife's heart was supposed to be, there would be no witnesses to the crime. And on the off chance that things started to go south, the Minister of Justice could simply pin the blame on Dhurke and his Defiant Dragons; because in the great nation of Khura'in, it didn't matter what crime you did- jaywalking, arson, mass murder- if you could link it to the Defiant Dragons, you were in the clear.

But then again, it _was_ still Inga's birthday. Ga'ran could have some political hoopla later that evening and had to push her 'fun' little tradition to an earlier time. Therefore, Inga could very well see an army of ridiculous-looking purple-cladded men standing behind the Ga'ran Reaper the moment he opened that door. So if Inga shot Ga'ran, they'd rush and beat the snot out of him before he could get two words in. Not to mention, if Inga killed Ga'ran, then he'd have to go through the effort of offing Amara, who at that point would only serve as a thorn in his side.

But these concerns quickly vanished from Inga's mind as he remembered how much of a bitch Amara was towards him in her Nayna persona and how almost any form of abuse was better than a night of 'passion' with Ga'ran as he flung open the door and pointed his gun out.

"Happy birthday to- Rayfa…?" A look of guilt spread across Inga's face as he saw eight year-old Rayfa, who was holding a flower and an envelope, trembling, prompting him to quickly put his gun away.

"Father, why were you aiming a gun at me?" Rayfa asked, keeping her gaze to the ground to avoid the risk of potentially aggravating her formerly-armed father. "Did I do something to anger you?"

"No, Rayfa. It's just that my birthday's kinda… risky." Inga said as he nervously scratched the back of his neck. "Lots of people out there that would love nothing more than to give me death as a birthday gift. So when I hear a knock at my door on this day, I've got to prepare myself for a little visit from Dhurke or one of his goons."

"Well, can I come inside?" Rayfa sweetly asked. "I have some presents that I want to give you."

A large grin spread across Inga's face. "Well, aren't I the luckiest man alive! Come on in!" The Minister stepped aside, allowing Rayfa to enter before closing the door behind her.

"So, what presents did you get me?"

"Well, I got you this flower…"

Rayfa handed Inga a black rose, which the mister looked at with apprehension in his eyes.

"Uh, isn't this one of the flowers that you mother keeps in her bedroom?" Inga asked, holding it an arm's length away as if it was poison.

"I know that Mother doesn't like it when people enter her bedroom, but I've always thought that those roses that she keeps on her windowsill are _sooo_ beautiful and the only flower worthy of my father's gaze."

"Well, who am I to argue…" Inga put the flower in his suit's front pocket. "Thanks for the gift, Rayfa!"

"Save your thanks until after I'm done, for I still have three wonderful gifts left for you!" Rayfa chirped. "Here's the next one!" The Princess handed Inga the envelope, which he opened and read the letter inside out loud.

"'Dear Father, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. You're always so kind, and I love you very much. I hope you live to be a hundred years old! Love, Rayfa.' Aw! How kind of you...!" Inga said as he slipped the letter into his pocket.

"Well, I meant every word of it because you're the best father in the whole wide world! You tuck me in at night, you listen to all my problems and worries, and you squish all the big, scary bugs that make their way into my private quarters!" Rayfa counted off Inga's good deeds on her fingers before tackling into him for a big hug. "I love you, Father!"

"And I you, Rayfa." Inga said as he stroked the back of his daughter's head.

"Ready for your next gift?" Rayfa asked with an excited grin on her face.

"Yeah, but you already gave me the flower and the letter, so what else have you got?"

"Well, you know how you're always complaining about how you've always got to be careful of dangerous people? Well, this next present will help keep you safe every hour of every day!" Rayfa boasted as she put her hands to her hips.

 _Oh my Holy Mother, if Rayfa's gift is what I think it is and she killed Ga'ran and Dhurke, then I'm dedicating a high holiday to her and giving her a pony!_ "So, what's this miracle gift that you're giving me?

"Tada!" Rayfa bellowed as she pulled out her third gift from behind her back, causing Inga's eyes to bug out upon seeing an item that he was well-acquainted with: Ga'ran's large, purple strap-on!

"Wha... What the heck!" Inga yelled as he quickly took a step back, only for Rayfa to move towards him.

"It's a nightstick, Father! I saw it out of the corner of my eye in Mother's room when I was getting your flower. It may not look like much, but I found it in a box in her closet that contained other items of self-defense- handcuffs, a riding crop, a can of bear spray- and figured that if it's good enough to defend the queen of Khura'in, then no one criminal would ever want to touch you! So, what do you think? Best gift ever, right?" Rayfa boasted.

 _Oh, no one will want to touch me if I have this thing, but not for the reasons you're thinking of…!_ "No! That thing is pure evil!" Inga roared as he swatted the infamous strap-on out of his daughter's hands, sending it flying and bending upon hitting the wall.

"I don't get it, Father. What's so evil about a nightstick?" Rayfa asked as she picked up the 'gift'. "Is it because it's a girly color?"

"No, that's not it! Do you have any idea what it is!?" Inga hissed as Rayfa approached him with the adult toy, which now resembled a boomerang- fitting, considering that it would always come back to bite Inga in the ass every year.

"Like I keep telling you, Father, it's a nightstick!" Rayfa huffed, clearly getting irritated Inga's unexplained rage. "Why? Is there something that you're not telling me?"

Inga flinched as he realized just what kind of hole he dug himself.

"Yeah, Rayfa, that's um…" Inga stroked his beard as he tried to come up with an excuse that would keep his daughter's innocence intact. "Your mother's scepter of evil! Yeah, that's it, scepter of evil."

Rayfa cocked her head. "Scepter of evil…?"

"Yeah, Ga'ran uses it to make life miserable for all those who dare defy her. It's why there are no sugary cereals on the palace grounds…"

"No…"

"Or how bugs of all kinds find their way into your bathroom no matter how careful you are…"

"No…!"

"And let's not forget how it's the reason why ten minutes of 30 minute t.v. shows are commercials and why they always happen right before the climax or some major plot twist!"

"NO!" Rayfa screeched as she threw the strap-on to the floor. "We must dispose of this great evil before it can hurt anyone else, posthaste!"

"Good plan, Rayfa, you take that scepter of evil and hide it far, far away where no one will ever, EVER find in, see!?"

"Yes, Father!" Rayfa ran towards the lewd item, but before picking it up, returned to Inga.

"What?" Inga asked.

"Before I go, maybe I could make you feel better with my fourth and final gift…"

 _And just what will that entail? Giving me the rubber glove Ga'ran uses when she wants to roleplay as a proctologist?_ Inga thought to himself as he rolled his eyes.

"I know what you're thinking, Father, but don't worry. This next present will be the best one yet!" Rayfa chirped.

"If you say so…" Inga responded with an evident tone of hesitation.

"But first things first, you're going to need to take a seat."

"Why?"

"Just trust me, Father. You'll understand once you get nice and comfortable in your chair." Rayfa stated as she gestured to the large-backed leather office seat next to Inga's desk, to which the Minister complied with and sat down.

"Ok, so what's your final gift?"

"Why, only the most luxurious, relaxing, and exclusive treatment in all of Khura'in, available only to the nicest, handsomest fathers to ever live: my famous super-duper Rayfa shoulder rub!" Rayfa proclaimed with a proud smile as she put her hands to her hips.

"I don't know, Rayfa... I-"

Inga was interrupted by Rayfa shushing him as she put her little hands on his shoulders.

"No more talking, Father. Just sit back and relax as all your worries flow from your body, like water from a spring, as you are tended to by the caring, calculated hands of a direct descendant of the Holy Mother..."

Rayfa proceeded to gently massage Inga, her thumbs moving in slow, concentric circles on the Minister's shoulder blades as her hands rubbed the area right in front of his shoulders. At first, Inga's body was stiff, knowing that this was his life and that this massage, like virtually 99 percent of all things that happened to him, would most likely backfire in some way, shape, or form. But as seconds turned to minutes, Inga, seeing as how nothing had went awry, let his body relax, much to Rayfa's joy.

"So Father, are you enjoying this present?"

"Yeah, Rayfa. Like oil on the gears..." Inga sighed with contentment.

"In that case, can you please move up in your seat? I couldn't help but notice that you carry a lot of weight in your back and figure that a good rub there would only serve to enhance the experience."

"Yeah, yeah… knock yourself out..." Inga sighed again as he scooted forward, allowing Rayfa to move her graceful hands down her father's back.

"What did I tell you, Father? Doesn't this back rub sooth your weary soul?"

"Yeah, I'm feeling-"

Inga stopped midsentence as his entire body went limp from the neck down, causing him to slump back in his chair.

 _Paralyzed…! I can't move my legs!_ Inga internally screamed.

"Father, I can't rub your back if you're sitting like that. Please sit up so that I may continue."

"Sorry, Rayfa, can't do it." Inga curtly stated.

"And why not? I'll have you know that I went through a lot of effort to have my day cleared so that I could give you your gifts." Rayfa pouted.

"Well, you did such a bang-up job rubbing me down that I'm as loose as a noodle. Now if you'll excuse me, I need some time alone to enjoy my newfound limberness." Inga said through strained teeth, trying his best to contain the overwhelming amount of pain that coursing through his body.

"Are you sure, Father? Because if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were in a great deal of agony." Rayfa stated with a look of concern on her face.

"Trust me, Rayfa, I'm fine. Just leave me be while you go out and hide that scepter of evil, see?"

"If you say so, Father…" Rayfa reluctantly said as she picked up the strap-on and left Inga's private quarters.

"Rayfa's gone. Now to take out my cellphone and… Oh right… Ok, no problem, no problem… I just have to shake my cellphone out of my shirt pocket and into my lap using my teeth. I never thought that I'd be saying this, but Ga'ran's violent, kinky bedroom fetishes may actually save my ass."

Straining his neck, Inga bit onto his shirt's pocket and shook it until is cellphone fell out, but instead of it falling into his lap like the Minister of Justice planned, it landed on the floor right in front of his chair.

"… And once more, I learn that anything that's good for Ga'ran is bad for me! Now I've got to find some way to get on the floor. Think, Inga, think. You've gotten out of worse messes than this…"

For a few moments, Inga sat in silence as he tried to think of an idea to get himself out of this mess, his eyes livening up upon the task being completed.

"I know! I'll just simply thrust my head forward as hard as I can and pull myself to the ground! Man, I'm a genius!" Inga smirked.

Not wasting any time, Inga reared his head back, only to immediately lower it as fast and hard as he could, visualizing that he was head-butting Ga'ran, resulting in him screaming in pain as he fell onto the floor in front of his cellphone.

"Owowow! My neck…!" Inga moaned. "Ok, I'm on the floor. Now all that's left is to call up the secret police and I'm home free!"

Using his nose, Inga flipped open his phone and dialed up the number to the Ministry of Justice.

"Minister Inga, please state the purpose of your call." A stern-sounding voice stated.

"Code Birthday Boy! I repeat, Code Birthday Boy! And hurry, I don't have much time!" Inga yelled.

"Right, sir. I'm sending officers to your position as we speak."

* * *

About ten minutes later, two members of Inga's secret police- one an obvious veteran of the Force, with a toned, chiseled body and a stoic, unfeeling face that were the products of many ears of service to the Minister of Justice; the other, a young, rail-thin man whose body was shaking so violently that it could be used in a massage chair- arrived outside his private quarters.

"M-Mr. Neede…?" The young officer nervously asked as he lightly tapped his coworker's shoulder.

"Yeah, Ooute?"

"W-What's Code Birthday Boy? Does it have to do with the Defiant Dragons? Will we have to fight them? Oh, Holy Mother…! Is Dhurke going to be there!? Is… Is he going to try to punch our throats!? Because I don't to get punched in-"

"Get a hold of yourself, Free'aka." The older officer said after giving his coworker a swift slap upside the head.

"S-S-Sorry, sir, b-b-but it's my first job in the secret police and I'm scared!" Free'aka whimpered, prompting the other officer to grab his shoulders in an attempt to contain him.

"Look, Ooute, I know how you feel. Believe it or not, there was a time when I was a young rookie, fresh from the academy and more jumpy than a bag of springs."

"Y-You were…?" The younger officer asked with a look of shock in his eyes.

"Of course! You'd have to be a freakin' psycho _not_ to be scared out of your wits while on duty. This is a terrifying job- dealing with killers, fighting terrorists, the horrifying X-rated training videos…"

"B-But how can _you_ be scared? You're never afraid!"

"Look, kid, just because I don't show fear doesn't mean that I don't have it. When I get up in the morning, I just say to myself, 'Reesig, you may be scared of what today might bring, but you've just got to put it off to the side- not for yourself, but for Khura'in.'"

"I know, and that's why I wanted to join the secret police, but it's just… well, after all the prep work and drills, I feel that one wrong move and BAM- a one-way ticket to the Twilight Realm for me!"

Reesig loosened up and put an arm around Free'aka's shoulder. "Ooute, we're members of the secret police- the crème of the crop personally handpicked by Minister Inga himself. Now, do you trust Minister Inga's judgement?"

"Of course! He's a great leader and a brilliant man!"

"In that case, why would Minister Inga allow you into the secret police if he didn't think you were capable?"

"You know, Mr. Neede, you're right!" Free'aka proclaimed, finding his inner courage. "So what's the job?"

"That's the spirit, kid. Basically, Code Birthday Boy falls under the Ga'ran Protection Protocols and lies somewhere between Code Freaky Friday and Code Mason Jar."

"Oh, so we're not fight off Defiant Dragons..." Free'aka breathed a sigh of relief. "That's a massive weight off my shoulders!"

"Don't go writing off this job just yet, kid. Trust me, I've seen my fair share of Code Birthday Boys and they make the Defiant Dragons look like little kittens by comparison."

"W-What do you mean? Just what kind of horrors are in that building!?"

Neede let out a wry chuckle. "You'll see soon enough, Ooute. Just be prepared for blood, tears, and the sight of our Minister on the brink of psychological collapse."

When Neede opened the door, the two officers were greeted to the sight of Inga passed out, lying facedown on the floor. But while Reesig was able to keep his calm and get an idea of the situation, the same couldn't be said for Free'aka.

"Nooo! Minister Inga! We were too late!" The young officer yelled as he rushed over to and kneeled beside his fallen superior.

"Ooute…"

"WHHHYYY…!? Whywhywhywhywhy…! Why must the good dye so young!?"

"Ooute…!"

"Look at him- cut down in his prime! Don't worry, Minister Inga, I won't let the Twilight Realm claim you so easily!" Free'aka rolled Inga over on his back and proceeded to punch the Minister's chest with all the strength he could muster. "Live! Live, Holy Mother-dammit! Live!"

"OOUTE!" Reesig snapped, causing Free'aka to stop what he was doing. "Judging from the lack of tears and a makeshift noose constructed out of execution papers, this isn't a Code Birthday Boy."

"Then what is it!?" The young officer screeched.

"I don't know, but our Minister of Justice could be dead and it won't help the investigation process if you cause further harm to his body. Now just calm down while I call for an ambulance and the boys in Forensics."

"No, I'm not giving up on the Minister! Live!" Free'aka slammed his fist on Inga's chest once more, causing the Minister of Justice's eyes to burst open as he screamed out in pain.

"Minister Inga! You're alive!" The young officer rejoiced as he squeezed Inga's limp body in a hug, causing him to scream out in pain once again.

"Get off of me, Ooute!" Inga snapped, prompting Free'aka to apologize before carefully placing Inga back on the floor.

"Minister Inga, what happened here? This is completely uncharacteristic of a Code Birthday Boy." Reesig asked.

"Well, I ain't got a code for Rayfa paralyzing me with a backrub, so this was the next-best option."

"But why did you call us, sir? Wouldn't it have been easier to get Abbot Inmee to come here?"

"And risk him running into Rayfa and breaking her little heart over what she inadvertently did? Not on my watch! That, and if Ga'ran found out that I was injured, it would only serve to make my night worse. She has a fetish for the injured, see?"

"S-So what do you want us to do, s-sir?" Free'aka stuttered.

"Easy. I want you two to get a stretcher, load me on it, and take me on down to Abbot Inmee's house."

"But… but what if someone asks us why we're carrying you on a stretcher? They'll know what happened and your plan will be doomed!" Free'aka wailed.

"Not if we act like rugs and lie, see?" Inga stated.

The young officer, in a state of total shock, gasped and put a hand to his mouth. " _LIE_!?"

"Did I stutter? Now get me a stretcher a.s.a.p.! My back ain't getting any better just laying here!"

"Consider it done, Minister Inga." Reesig replied as he and Free'aka saluted their superior.

As the two officers left the building, Inga passed out once more.

* * *

When Inga regained consciousness, he was being carried through the royal residence on one of the secret police's stretchers as the sound of Free'aka's nervous muttering filled the air.

"Oh Holy Mother… Holy Mother… We're the secret police. If people can't trust us then who can they trust? Society will slip through the cracks, fire will rain from the sky, people will start wearing blue jeans… Khura'in will fall into anarchy! Anarchy, I say!"

"Poor, poor Ooute… So young, so naïve… You have no idea what being part of the secret police entails." Inga sneered.

"That's what I kept trying to tell him, sir." Reesig chimed in.

Suddenly, the two officers were stopped in their tracks by Rayfa approaching them.

"Oh no! It's Her Benevolence! We're doomed! DO- ow!" Free'aka screamed in pain as Reesig stomped on his foot.

"What Officer Ooute meant to say, Your Benevolence, was that we wish you a nice day."

"Thank you, Officer. But why are you two carrying my father on a stretcher? Is he hurt?" Rayfa asked with a look of concern.

"Don't worry about me, Rayfa. Being carried on a stretcher is how all the influential figures in the West get around, so I'm trying to give Khura'in a good name by following suit." Inga stated.

"Oh, ok. I was just worried about you, Father, because if something were to happen to you, I don't know what I'd do…" Rayfa whimpered as tears started to well up in her eyes.

"Listen, Rayfa, you're too young to worry about that kind of stuff. But if you wanna help out your old man, go enjoy your day off and do whatever it is you do in your free time."

"If it'll help you out, I'll be more than happy to oblige!" Rayfa excitedly stated before running towards the palace.

"Alright, ughh…" Inga grunted in pain. "She's gone. Now get me to Inmee as fat as your legs can take…" The Minister tried to order before passing out yet again.

* * *

When Inga regained consciousness this time, he found himself on a massage table in Tahrust Inmee's house.

"Ugh… Where… Where am I...?" Inga groggily asked, rubbing his sore temple with the palm of his hand. "Wait a minute! My arm… my hand… I can move it again!" The Minister of Justice rejoiced.

"Ah, good to see that you are awake." Tahrust said as he entered the room. "As for your previous question, you have been in my house, where I have been treating your back for the past half-hour. Speaking of which, how exactly did you injure it?"

"Why? You gonna mock me? Tell me how I need to do more yoga or eat more kale or some other form of treatment that I'll hate?" Inga growled.

Tahrust gently clasped his hands together. "Her Holiness does not judge, and neither shall I. I only ask because your back was the worst case that I have seen in my many years as a priest and healer."

"It can't be _that_ bad. All that happened was Rayfa gave me a back rub."

"Well, it _is_ that bad, Minister Inga. Have you heard the old saying, 'it only takes a breeze to start an avalanche'?"

"Yeah, so?" Inga asked as he cocked his head in confusion.

"Consider this metaphor, Minister: your back is a mountain, your stress is snow, and this spot right here," Tahrust pointed to a spot on Inga's upper back, "is the peak. As snow falls day after day, month after month, year after year, it piles up higher and higher on the peak, becoming ever more unstable after each passing storm. Now we introduce Her Benevolence, the breeze, into the picture. When-"

"Hey! My daughter ain't some measly little breeze! Rayfa's elegant, bold, and powerful- if she's any kind of wind, she's a powerful storm at the very least, see!" Inga objected.

"KAAAAAAAH! It is a metaphor, Minister Inga! See forest through the trees, only then can you reach enlightenment with the aid of Her Holiness!" Tahrust bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Sorry, sorry…"

"As I was saying, when Her Benevolence massaged your back, she inadvertently shifted your body's energy flow in a fashion that unleashed your stress and caused it to violently spread throughout your entire back. And like how a fearsome avalanche can bury many a village in snow, your stress had fatally damaged the nerves in your back."

Tahrust let out a long sigh before continuing his talk. "I'm sorry, Minister Inga, I have done all in my power to help you, but the damage done is far too great to fully heal. So while you will not lose muscle control, you will have spontaneous bouts of severe back pain."

"Well, isn't there something you can do to help me? You're a high priest. Can't you do some weird yoga poses and make a deal with the Holy Mother to heal me in exchange for a goat or an apple or whatever the hell She likes?" Inga asked with a tone of irritation.

"Minister Inga, this is the Holy Mother we are talking about, not some wish-granting genie. You can't just 'make a deal' with Her." Tahrust sternly answered.

"But it was Her descendants that brought on my back pain and gave me the stress that was the underlying cause. She owes me!" Inga pouted.

"I am going to assume that your statements just now were the situation talking… Now, there are a few things that I can do to help ease the pain."

Tahrust handed Inga a picture of his back with certain spots circled in red marker.

"The circled areas indicate your main pressure points. If you rub them when your back starts to act up, the pain should end almost instantaneously..."

Tahrust then proceeded to go over to a medicine cabinet where, after searching through it for a few brief moments, returned to Inga with a syringe and a vial of clear-colored liquid.

"However, in the event that soothing those pressure points fails to help you relieve the pain, inject three milliliters of this solution into your back. And if you ever run out, please do not hesitate to ask me for more." The high priest instructed as he handed the vial and syringe to Inga. After which, the Minister of Justice left Tahrust's home without saying another word.

* * *

Later that evening, Inga sat on his bed, contemplating the events that transpired that day as he held Rayfa's letter in his hands, rereading it over and over again as if it was a sacred text describing the secrets of life and immortality.

"I'm not angry with you, Rayfa. You were only trying to give your dear ol' dad a happy birthday- nothing wrong with that. And while today may have stripped away my health, much like how Ga'ran stripped away my dignity long ago, I gained something more valuable: a physical reminder of how much my little girl cares about me."

Inga got up from his bed and opened up his hidden safe.

"Can't let Ga'ran snuff out this little bit of happiness, so into the safe you go!" Inga said, putting the letter in the safe before closing it and returning to his bed where tucked himself in and started to drift off to sleep.

However, before Inga could truly fall asleep, he was jolted awake by the sound of Ga'ran, who was wearing her old prosecutor outfit, bursting into his private quarters.

"INGA!" Ga'ran yelled, her face red as she glared daggers at her quivering husband. "How DARE you so blatantly defy me, the woman who can end lives on a mere whim!"

 _Like I'd be so lucky…_ "I don't know what you're talking about, Queen Crazy! I just wanna get some sleep!"

"Such insolence!" Ga'ran shouted as she stomped over to the Minister of Justice's bed. "I know what you did today!"

"Like I said before, I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Strange, because the act perfectly resembles you- displeasing your wife and has to do with something sad and pitiful like THIS!" Ga'ran yelled as she held up her bent strap-on.

 _Holy crap, the bad boomerang returned!_ Inga internally screamed as his eyes bugged out.

"That's right, Inga, much like your life, your little plan to stop your birthday pleasuring was one massive failure." Ga'ran sneered. "A little tip for next time- if you're going to hide something from me, don't put it in an abandoned defendant's lobby."

 _Dammit Rayfa, when I said to hide it where no one would ever find it, I mean throwing it off Mt. Poniponi or something like that, not putting it somewhere Ga'ran frequents to get all hot in the loins!_

"But don't worry, Inga. Even though I lack my normal toy for this evening, I can still give you your present the good, old fashion way…" Ga'ran purred, flashing the Minister a sultry grin as she brandished her paddle.

"No! No! No…!" Inga screamed in terror, pressing his back against his bed's headboard as he pulled out his cellphone and started dialing the number for his secret police.

"There is no escape, Inga!" Ga'ran cackled before pouncing on him like a lion on an antelope, causing the proud Minister of Justice to drop his phone as he cried about the pain in his back.


	8. Rise of the Plumed Punisher

Inga was always filled with dread when Ga'ran summoned him to her throne room. But could anyone really blame him? Even on her good days, the queen was infamous for her persnickety approach on all matters- from major concerns such as politics and ethical quandaries to minor issues such as fashion sense and hobbies- and no one knew this better than Inga.

During the course of his 22 years of being married to Ga'ran, Inga had done a grand total of zero things right in Ga'ran's eyes: He couldn't fill out execution forms and arrest Defiant Dragons fast enough, he couldn't dress properly, and he was an utter disappointment in the bedroom. But for that last one, the 41 year-old minister would fight to the death that he'd do better if he was actually allowed to participate.

That being said, when Ga'ran summoned Inga to her throne room this time, the Minister of Justice knew right away that it was regarding bad news and that he'd come out worse than when he went in. And why wouldn't he? That's what happened when he first entered that accursed audience chamber and forced into marriage despite his objections and sobbing, and that's how it would always be.

Knowing that Ga'ran would force him into that throne room one way or another, Inga let out a long sigh and took a deep breath before entering the audience chamber, where he saw his heartless harpy of a wife perched on her giant golden throne.

"Inga, how nice of you to come of your own volition. And here I thought that I'd have to drag you here kicking and screaming, just like on our wedding night." Ga'ran sniggered, covering her mouth with her hand out of refinement.

"Don't remind me…" Inga groaned. "I don't have all day, Ga'ran. So unlike sex, make this quick and painless."

"Inga, is that any way for you to talk to your beautiful, loving wife?"

"What beautiful, loving wife? All I see is a fat manatee with a hoodie where its junk should be." The Minister sneered, clenching his cigar stamp between his teeth.

"Oh, like you have it so bad. When I married you, I thought that I was getting a man, but instead, I got a pitiful creature with the spine and genitalia of an amoeba." Ga'ran retorted, wrinkling her nose in disgust at her husband.

"I'm not in the mood for foreplay, Ga'ran. Just tell me why you called me here and I'll be on my way."

"Fine, Inga. I want you to create, write, and direct a children's television series for me. You see, because of your secret police's incompetence in crushing the Defiant Dragons, Dhurke has been slowly, but surely, rallying more and more of Khura'in's population to his vile cause with each passing day. That's why we must start a campaign to remind our people of the Defiant Dragon's evils and my benevolence."

"But why target kids? Trying to lure them into your gingerbread house?" Inga sneered.

" _Very_ funny, Inga…" Ga'ran groaned with a roll of her eyes. "If we don't effectively reach the children, they'll be prime soldiers for Dhurke's ranks when they grow older. And what appeals more to children than television?"

"Yeah, but why have me write it? Can't you hire someone?" The Minister pouted." What about the guy you're having write your biography? If he's capable of making you look good, then he's capable of doing damn near anything!"

"Why buy the milk when you can torture the cow for free? Not to mention, with your child-sized mind and disco stick, if anyone can understand the youths of today, it's you." Ga'ran sneered.

"In that case, with your cold, boney hands and ability to make me wanna run to the Twilight Realm, you'd be the perfect Grim Reaper. But do you see me forcing the scythe in your hands?"

"Such insolence! If you were actually capable of doing your job as Minister of Justice and wiped out the Defiant Dragons right when they formed, I wouldn't have to issue this sort of propaganda in the first place! Therefore, this is _your_ responsibility!" Ga'ran yelled.

"But-" Inga tried to retort before being interrupted by his wife.

"Do not test me, Inga! Show me a preview tape of the show's pilot within the next week or you will be stamping your own execution paper! Understand?" Ga'ran snared, glowering down at her husband who responded with a quick nod before rushing out of the throne room.

* * *

Later in his private quarters, Inga sat in front of his laptop as he wracked his mind for ideas, glaring at the blank word document before him.

"Ok, Inga, you can do this… Just got to come up with an interesting idea for a show based on Khura'in's rich culture. It can't be that hard, right…?" Inga pondered the possibilities for a brief moment before slapping his forehead in frustration and letting out an exasperated sigh. "Damn it! Who am I kidding!? Khura'in's history's about as interesting as watching paint dry! All it consists of Ga'ran's bitchy ancestor founding the country, her and her bitchy descendants ruling the country with absolutely no conflicts or wars for thousands of years, giving birth to more insufferable bitches that do more of the same until one of them forced me to marry her and plunged my life into a realm of eternal suffering and torment! Hell, the most exciting part of our country's history is the thing I'm trying to snuff out with this show! With the royal family's history being nothing but praying, no wonder people are sympathizing with that cheeky bastard Dhurke! Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that defiant asshole was the reason that I'm stuck with my black widow of a wife, I'd be jumping ship, too! If only there was at least one of the Holy Mother's descendants- with the exception of my dear, sweet Rayfa- that wasn't such a cold bore and actually did something interesting."

Inga's eyes widened as an idea hit him, a grin forming on his face as he began typing out an outline.

"Of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner? Lady Kee'ra! She kicked people's asses for a living, and unlike her other relatives, she actually kept it at just that! I'll make a show where Lady Kee'ra fights Dhurke! It's perfect- interesting to watch, fun to make, and a copy-and-paste formula that can be done over and over for as long as I want!"

However, just as the Minster was getting into the grove of things, he hit another roadblock, prompting him to stop typing as he scratched the back of his head.

"Now I just need to come up with the actual premise of the show- y'know, characters, theme song, all that jazz… Well, when in doubt, steal from the internet. That's what I do when I have to write a birthday card for Ga'ran without death threats and that's what I'll do for this."

Inga went on the internet where he typed in 'popular cartoons' into the search bar, giving him a results screen with a link to _The Steel Samurai: Warrior of Neo Olde Tokyo_ wiki at the top of the page.

"'What's this…? _Steel Samurai_? I guess it's worth a look…"

The Minister clicked on the link where he was greeted to a thorough wiki article on the Steel Samurai, complete with the show's signature background as the wallpaper and several pictures, one of which included a stern-faced man in a pink suit standing next to the actor playing the character, a tall man named Will Powers if the caption underneath the photo was accurate. Inga then proceeded to read the entire page and watch every embedded video in an effort to learn more about this Steel Samurai character.

"Man, this CrimsonProsecutor92 guy who wrote this article needs to get a life! Well, no skin off my back since his article of this Samurai show's really gonna help me with mine. Alright, time to get to work…"

Inga copied the quality image of the Steel Samurai that CrimsonProsecutor92 so kindly put at the top of the page and pasted it on his outline, where he modified it by recoloring the silver portions of the costume to gold.

"There, got the main character done. Granted, I'll make the costume more feminine and more like Lady Kee'ra's, but I can easily include that as a side note to the designers. Now for the name. I got to make it where it's two names in one that both start with the same letter. Apparently, that's what it takes to be cool in the West. Now what to name her? Name… Name… Feathered Fury…? Nah, not imposing enough… Winged Warrior…? Too cliché… Talon Trampler…? Too reminiscent of Ga'ran… Plumed Punisher…? Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" Inga nodded vigorously as he typed his new 'original' hero's name. "Alright, now for the theme song." The Minster returned to the wiki page and copied and pasted the sheet music for _The Steel Samurai_ theme onto his outline sheet, where he changed the 'Steel Samurai' in the title to 'Plumed Punisher'. "Done. I'll just have it played with Khura'inese instruments to make it my own. After all, a good artists creates while a great one steals. Now for the actual script…"

For the next few days, after battling many cases of writer's block, Inga finally finished writing the script for the show's pilot and was now able to focus on smaller, but still important, aspects of the show, such as funding…

* * *

Inga entered Ga'ran's audience chamber where she regally sat on her throne as Lah'kee gave her a shoulder rub.

"Inga, what a nice surprise. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Well, I got the script for your show done, but I kinda need a film lot, actors, musicians, etc. to actually make the episode. So can you allocate me some money, say 50,000 dahmas?"

"Okay Inga, I'll give you the money. However, you're going to have to work for it, and you know full well what that entails..." Ga'ran purred with a sultry grin. "Guards, please leave us alone as we discuss matters with our husband." The queen requested, prompting all of her guards to leave the throne room.

Inga winced, knowing exactly where this was going. "Eh, on second thought, I'm not _that_ desperate for the money, see?"

"Don't be so coy, Inga. Come here…" Ga'ran said with a slow curl of her index finger.

"Nah, I'm good over here." The Minister said, his posture as stiff as a board.

Ga'ran's grin morphed into a scowl as she began to lose her patience with her husband. "Inga, get over here. NOW!"

Inga shook his head. "I don't wanna!"

"Inga, either you come over here and earn your money like a man, or fail to produce my show and get to see the Holy Mother in person!"

For about a minute, Inga stayed perfectly still as he seriously contemplated choosing the latter option, which only served to further rile his wife.

"Chose the former, Inga!" Ga'ran roared.

Inga sighed as he slowly walked up to Ga'ran's throne, his shoulders slumped over and his gaze directed towards the ground, where he bent down, revealing his bottom to the now-smirking queen.

"Just make painless, Ok?" Inga whimpered as Ga'ran leaned over him, putting her weight on his bad back and causing him to faintly grunt in pain.

"Shut up, Inga." Ga'ran curtly said as she dug her long nails into the Minister's back. "I'm paying you to be pretty, not talk."

* * *

Casting…

* * *

In Inga's new, hard-earned filming lot, the Minister, who was wearing a black beret and sitting in a director's chair, was auditioning a man that had an uncanny resemblance to Dhurke.

"Thanks for coming in, Teespian. Once again, sorry about my officers mistaking you for Dhurke last month and hauling you to the station. Really got my ass handed to me by the wife that night. But hey, it wasn't that bad- made you the perfect candidate to play Dhurke in the kingdom's new hit t.v. show: _The Plumed Punisher: Warrior of Neo Twilight Realm_. Now just give your best Dhurke impression and the job's practically yours, see?"

"Thank you once more for this opportunity, Minister Inga." The tall, muscular man said in a surprisingly soft, posh voice. "But before I do, may I ask you a quick question?"

"Yeah, knock yourself out."

"What _is_ Dhurke's motivation? Why is he so hell-bent on destroying our fair nation?"

"'Cause he's an asshole."

"Yes, but _why_ is he an asshole? Were his parents killed when he was a child? Did Her Eminence humiliate him, driving him into blind fury? Or does he suffer from a mental disorder, giving him the delusion that _he_ is the hero in this tale?"

"He ended up on my execution list after asking one too many stupid questions. And unless you wanna face a similar fate, I'd suggest you get on with the audition." Inga growled.

Teespian nervously gulped. "R-Right away, Minister Inga."

* * *

And focus groups…

* * *

In one of Inga's interrogation rooms, four year-old Ahlbi Ur'gaid's head, arms and legs were restrained to a chair and his eyes were taped open to prevent him from blinking.

"Where am I?!" Ahlbi shrieked in terror as he tried to make sense of his surroundings, only to see a large screen in front of him.

"You're in my one of my interrogation rooms for the sole purpose of serving your country by helping us create a new hit show." Inga said over an intercom. "Now, I'm gonna ask you a question that I want you to answer with complete honesty. Remember, the future of Khura'in rides on your answer. Which costume looks better:" An image of the Plumed Punisher costume with a cloak appeared on the screen. "The one with a cloak…" The screen switched to an image of the same costume but without the cloak. "or the one with no cloak?"

"I wanna go home!" Ahlbi wailed as he struggled in vain to free himself.

"Not until you answer the question: Cloak or no cloak? Answer!" Inga roared, causing the toddler to start crying.

"I don't know! I want my mommy!"

"Well, kid, your mommy ain't here now- just me, Minister Inga Karkhuul Khura'in! So unless you want her to have a little accident, I'd suggest you cooperate."

"I don't wanna! I don't wanna! I don't wanna!"

"Know who you're messing with, kid!? I break the spirits of Defiant Dragons' on a daily basis! I eat little punks for you like breakfast! I can show you things so horrible that your eyes will melt in their sockets and your brains will ooze out your ears, see!? So I'm gonna ask you one last time, which costume do you like better: the one with the cloak, or the one without?" Inga asked as the two choices were shown again.

"The one with a cloak!"

"You sure? 'Cause if the show fails and I found out you were lying, I'll have everything you cherish in life destroyed before your very eyes, see!? I'll personally march down to your house and break each and every one of your loved ones over my knee like cold carrots!"

"Yes! Yes! Just let me go home!"

"See? That wasn't so bad." Inga said in a cheery voice as a member of his secret police entered the room and freed Ahlbi, who was still whimpering, and removed the tape from around his tear-filled eyes. "Now this nice officer's gonna escort you to the building's entrance where you'll receive a lollipop and a cavity search to make sure that you didn't steal anything."

* * *

A few days before his deadline, the Inga was in his private chambers, using his laptop to finish the last of the edits for the episode as Rayfa entered the room.

"You wanted to see me, Father?" The nine year-old girl sweetly asked.

"Yeah, Rayfa. See, you're a child-"

"I am NOT a child, Father! I'm a big girl!" Rayfa fumed, her face turning red as she shot her father a death glare.

"I swear to the Holy Mother, I didn't mean it as an insult, Rayfa. In fact, only someone of your age could help me with this really, really important job that I'm currently doing."

"Well, you've asked the right person, Father!" Rayfa proudly chirped with her hands on her hips. "How can I help?"

"I need you to watch a video on my computer and tell me what you think of it. Can you do it?"

"I'll try my best, Father!"

Inga put Rayfa on his lap before playing the finished first episode of the _Plumed Punisher_. As the episode progressed, the Minister noticed his daughter's eyes widening as she steadily became more and more engrossed in the episode. After the video finished playing, Inga turned Rayfa so that she was facing him.

"So how was it?" The Minister asked, nervously scratching the back of his head as he awaited his daughter's answer.

"That was… amazing!" Rayfa squealed with a look of amazement in her eyes!

"Really? You liked it?"

"Of course! The writing was emotional, the dialogue superb, and the action… I haven't felt such excitement since that time last year when I saw you chase after the warbaa'd that stole your lunch! This is a masterpiece!"

"Good to know all my hard work paid off!" Inga said with a grin, causing Rayfa's jaw to drop as she stared at her father with a look of utter amazement.

"YOU created this beautiful work of art? Did you have any help?"

"Nope. It's a 100% original work by yours truly." Inga boasted as he chomped down on his cigar.

"In that case, you deserve a billion blessings from the Holy Mother for this truly wonderful video you've created!"

"Glad to know I have such a loyal fan in you, Rayfa. If your mother agrees with your opinion, then the idea will get approved for an entire television series. So keep your fingers crossed and pray to the Holy Mother that all goes well."

"Father, I don't need to pray to the Holy Mother because even an extremely critical person such as Mother could not possibly hate such a beautiful masterpiece. Plus, you're the greatest man I know. If anyone can succeed, it's you!" Rayfa chirped as she squeezed her father in a tight hug.

"Yes I can, Rayfa. Yes I can…" Inga said, stroking his daughter's hair as he returned her hug.

* * *

On the day Inga was to present the episode, Inga entered his private quarters with Ga'ran where he sat down and turned on his computer.

"So Inga, did you actually do something right for once and make the episode that I asked for?" Ga'ran asked, hovering over her husband's shoulder as he waited for his computer to boot up.

"How about instead of telling you, I show you?" Inga smirked.

"No thank you, Inga. You see, I want to be impressed, and whenever you show me something, I'm anything but if our time in the bedroom is of any indication." Ga'ran wryly commented.

"Just shut up and watch the trailer, ya crone." Inga growled as he clicked to start the video before moving his chair off to the side so that his wife could see the screen more clearly.

The video started with a containing only the country of Khura'in appearing on the screen, followed by Inga saying, "Gloh'baal Studios proudly presents…"

The logo disappeared and was replaced by a picture of Inga's smug faced, followed by him saying, "An original show created, written, and directed by Minister Inga Karkhuul Khura'in…"

The Plumed Punisher jumped on screen, performing a series of flips and jumps to the tune of her theme song. After the minute-long theme song ended, the heroine assumed her signature pose as the show's title was flashed on the screen in big, purple Khura'inese text.

The video then cut to the country awash in flames, thick smoke smothering the sun and casting the land into darkness. The narrator, who was Inga, then proceeded to provide exposition.

"This is the country of Khura'in, a noble nation filled with peaceful people who desire nothing more than to live a simple life devoted to the Holy Mother. But despite all the blessings that Her Holiness gives- bountiful crops, plentiful clean drinking water, beautiful scenery- there is one group that stands in direct opposition to Her…"

The video transitioned to a scene depicting several of the show's goofy, ninja-esque Defiant Dragons chasing down innocent civilians. "They are the Defiant Dragons, a group of soulless renegades that seeks only the destruction of our fair country, leaving only destruction and misery in its wake, led by none other than Amara's murderer himself…"

The video cut to the show's villainous version of Dhurke marching towards the palace, laughing maniacally as he fired bombs at nearby buildings from a large cannon where his left hand should have been, causing them to crumble in large explosions that spewed forth rubble and flames. "Dhurke Sahdmadhi, a heartless attorney who hates our lovely queen almost as much as he hates prayer, love, and Minister Inga."

The scene transitioned to the palace's entrance, where the actress playing Ga'ran, who was big-boned to say the least, proudly stood in preparation for her confrontation with Dhurke.

"Inga!" Ga'ran snapped, glaring daggers at her husband. "What is the meaning of this _cow_ playing me?"

"What? I'm trying to be realistic here."

"I do _not_ look like that!"

"Hey, I write what I see, and if I see your planet-sized ass, then that's what I'm gonna write!"

In the video, Dhurke finally reached Ga'ran.

"Well, well. Look who came out of to play. What, too drafty hiding up in your ivory tower?" Dhurke sneered.

"I am Queen Ga'ran Sigatar Khura'in, the benevolent ruler of this land who loves all things big and small. But despite that, We will not stand by and let you ravage this fair land!" The actress proclaimed as she pulled out a large scepter with a green orb mounted on top.

"Oh please, Inga." Ga'ran said with a roll of her eyes. "If I loved small things, then I wouldn't be disappointed with everything below your belt."

"That's pretty obvious, if what's below _your_ belt is of any indication."

The actors portraying Dhurke and Ga'ran proceeded to fight, with the former transforming his cannon hand into a sword which he used to attack the latter with blinding speed. But unfortunately for him, the television queen was able to wield her staff with tremendous skill, blocking each and every one of the rebel's attacks with ease. The battle lasted like this for a few minutes, with Dhurke on the offense and the chunky Ga'ran on the defense, culminating with the two clashing their weapons together in a stalemate.

"I'm impressed, Ga'ran. You're more skilled than I thought."

"Of course we are, you vile scourge! The Holy Mother would never allow the Queen of Khura'in to fall to one as twisted as you!"

"Ha! But your forgetting one thing: A dragon never yields…" Dhurke sneered, pushing the queen away as his sword morphed into a spinning sawblade. The rebelled then slashed at the queen with his new weapon, cutting through her staff like a knife through hot butter when she tried to guard, followed by him pushing her to the ground with his free hand. "Nor plays fair." Dhurke's sawblade morphed into a shotgun which he aimed at the queen's head. "When you get to the Twilight Realm, send Amara my regards. But don't worry if you forget, because they'll be another messenger soon enough…" The rebel eyed the child actor playing Rayfa, who scurried behind the wall separating the palace from the rest of the nation.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" A female voice yelled from afar.

"Who dares speak out against the all-powerful Dhurke!?" The rebel bellowed as his eyes darted around the area

"Me!" The plumed punisher jumped on the scene, assuming her signature pose. "The Plumed Punisher: Warrior of Neo Twilight Realm!"

"You…!" Dhurke growled.

"That's right, you filthy viper! You thought that the lab explosion killed me, but thanks to the kind people of this nation, the protection of the Holy Mother, and the DNA of Lady Kee'ra that flows through my veins, I'm back and stronger than ever! So prepare yourself, Dhurke, as I fulfil my mission and take you down once and for all!" The heroine yelled as she rushed at the rebel with her dagger.

"I couldn't agree more. Dragons, show her how we do business!" Dhurke ordered, prompting two of his minions to appear out of puffs of black smoke and charge at the Plumed Punisher, only to be quickly defeated with a few swift, precise kicks from the heroine as she continued to rush towards the rebel leader.

Dhurke, seeing that his grunts were of no match for the heroine, took matters into his own hands, firing several rounds from his gun at her, all of which she quickly dodged, before morphing his hand back into a sword and dueling with her at close-range. For the next few minutes, the Plumed Punisher and Dhurke engaged in a high-action fight, with the former unrelentingly unleashing brutal strike after brutal strike on his adversary, only for her to counter by jumping around the area like a grasshopper, disorienting the rebel leader before unleashing a flurry of precise dagger strikes on him.

"Dragon's Maw!" Dhurke roared, grabbing the Plumed Punisher's shin before throwing her into the wall of a nearby building with enough force to cause the building to collapse. But much to his disdain, his adversary emerged from the rubble unscathed, brandishing her weapon as a sign that she was still more than capable of continuing the fight.

"Let's finish this!" The two characters yelled in unison, the scene utilizing a split screen showing both of their glaring faces, before charging at each other, their weapons held to their sides.

The two warriors struck each other with powerful attacks, a bright flash appearing on the screen at the moment of impact along with the sound of metal blades hitting their mark. Shortly after, the Plumed Punisher and Dhurke turned around to face each other, both panting as they prepared for another charge. However, before they could attack again, a sharp pain rushed through the heroine's body as she fell to one knee, prompting Dhurke to smirk at his adversary as he slowly walked over to her. But before he could reach her, the rebel leader winced, the energy drained from his body as he fell face down on the ground.

Seizing the opportunity, the Plumed Punisher quickly got back up on her feet and charged towards Dhurke at full speed to put a permanent end to his reign of terror. But before she could deliver the final blow, the heroine was stopped by the show's frog-like hunchback portrayal of Datz appearing from a burst of black smoke and sending her to the ground with a sucker punch to the face.

"Hee hee! Messs no allowsss nasssty, nasssty lady to hurtsssies Masssta Dhurke! Dragonsss, helpsssies the masssta! Make her crysssies the tearsss of pain!" Datz wailed, causing an army of at least 100 Defiant Dragons to flood the area and attack the heroine as the frog rebel helped his leader back up on his feet.

"You may have beat me this time, Puny Pansies, but remember: A dragon never yields... Congratulations! You may receive a certified check for up to $400,000,000 U.S. cash! One lump sum, tax free! Your odds to win are one-in-six!" Dhurke chanted, his eye and hand glowing red as drew upon the satanic power of telemarketing, sending out a wave of evil energy to strengthen his army, their disposition becoming animalistic as they became more muscular and were surrounded with a red aura.

"So long, suckers!" Dhurke yelled as he and Datz vanished from the scene in a puff of black smoke.

After their master flee the area, the new and improved Defiant Dragons continued their attack on the Plumed Punisher, but despite her best efforts, the heroine was quickly overwhelmed and brought to her knees by the minions' sheer strength and numbers. Seeing that there was no way for her to win, the Plumed Punisher had just about given up hope, when suddenly, the show's flattering depiction of Inga, complete with a cigar stamp the size of a stick of peperoni, and his secret police entered the area and fought off the goons, forcing them to flee from the area.

"Oh, Minister Inga…!" The actress playing Ga'ran said as he embraced the hunky Inga. "You and your secret police have saved the day!"

"Tis nothing, my dear queen and wife. All in a day's work for the secret police in our fight to keep this nation safe. But I cannot hoard all of the credit when it was our noble heroine, the Plumed Punisher, who defeated that dastardly Dhurke on the field of battle. Good on you, fair warrior maiden!" The actor playing Inga proclaimed as he helped the heroine to her feet.

"Thank you, Minister Inga." The Plumed Punisher said with a bow. "But what of Dhurke and his Defiant Dragons? Shouldn't we chase after them?"

"How can we chase after them when we don't know where they are hiding? But if any righteous citizens of our fair nation were in possession of that kind of knowledge and informed the secret police, then we could take the fight to that ruffian and bring peace back to our land. Remember children, don't jump on the evil bandwagon by becoming a Defiant Dragon!"

The screen faded to black as the credits rolled, crediting Inga with everything except the work done by the actors.

"So, whatcha think? Pretty good, eh?" Inga smirked as he chomped down on his cigar stamp.

"That was the worst thing that I have ever had the misfortune to watch in my entire life!"

"But Rayfa said it was good when I showed her."

"She's nine, Inga! Her brain is only slightly more developed than yours! Seriously, morphing hand? Frog Datz? Satanic telemarketing powers!? What in the Holy Mother's name were you on to think of such random, idiotic malarkey?!"

"It's spices things up- y'know, for the kids! Dhurke's morphing hand allows for different fighting opportunities, Datz deformed body and personality are comedic relief, and don't you say that telemarketers aren't evil- 'cause they are!"

"And don't get me started on how you portrayed yourself…!" Ga'ran snarled.

"What are ya talking about? I think I was pretty accurate."

"Oh please, Inga. Like you have the brain capacity to use multi-syllable words and not sound like a stereotypical gangster. And in what world is that deflated muffin top that you call a torso muscular?"

"Hey, I'm merely emphasizing my good qualities, see? It shows the people of how I'm strong and reliable"

"You're right, Inga, because the kingdom truly needs to be reminded of how you use that stamp of yours to overcompensate for something that I and everyone else finds… lacking." Ga'ran sneered.

"Hey! I don't need this stamp to prove nothing, see!?" Inga shouted, rubbing his cigar stamp with his index finger and thumb before quickly putting it in his pocket after realizing what he was doing.

"Regardless of what Freudian issues you have going on, I will not allow for that episode to be aired without some changes, the main one being my character. I am not some fat, kindly ruler who respects you, Inga. I am a svelte, strong, independent woman who is to be feared by all- especially you!"

"Fine. I'll rewrite and recast your scenes with a different actress. Hell, I'll even slip her a tapeworm and dress her up as the Grim Reaper if it pleases you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Inga. You know that black clashes with my eyes. As for your depiction, as long as he's completely subservient to mine, you don't have to change his appearance. After all, I still need people to think that I married well. Just make his stamp the same size as yours. I don't want people other than me starting rumors."

"Alright, I'll do it." Inga groaned.

"Good boy." Ga'ran condescendingly said as she pat her husband on the head. "Run the revised version passed me a week from now."

* * *

Later that night, Inga was sitting at his computer, hard at work revising the pilot episode's script to meet Ga'ran's requirements.

"'… After having been touched by Ga'ran, all of the Defiant Dragon goons ran off a cliff like a bunch of lemmings, screaming of how they couldn't get clean.' … Yeah, yeah… That's good. I can make it where they're repelled by Ga'ran's 'spiritual power'."

As Inga typed away on his keyboard, Rayfa entered his private chambers.

"Hello, Father."

"Hey Rayfa. What brings you here? Your mother's being too tough on you with your training again?"

"No Father, I just wanted to see how your presentation with mother went today. Did she love your wonderful show?" Rayfa excitedly asked, a glimmer of hope filling her eyes.

"Sorry Rayfa, but your mother wasn't a big fan- said I didn't portray her well."

"Why would she think that? I loved how you wrote Mother's character! You made her seem really nice."

"Yeah, well, you know how your mother's got an image to maintain."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, Father, I'll always be the Plumed Punisher's biggest fan!" Rayfa chirped.

"Aw. You sure do know how to brighten your dear ol' dad's day." Inga said as he ruffled his daughter's hair. "Say, how'd you like to help me rewrite the script?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Inga lifted Rayfa up onto his lap, allowing her to look at the script.

"Father, maybe you could include a part where I give the Plumed Punisher extra power through my hopes and dreams."

"Heh. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree… Y'know, Rayfa, I have a feeling that this show's gonna be the start of something great."


	9. A Night Most Grievous

"Dear Holy Mother, please smite Ga'ran with every unholy, malevolent force you've got at your disposal- lighting, fire, people fatter than she is sitting on her head… I don't care what you do as long as she dies a painful death!" Inga angrily proclaimed, his hands clasped together as he kneeled before the Founder's orb which he had placed on the center of his bed.

However, after a few seconds of nothing happening, the disgruntled Minster of Justice got up and glared at the Founder's orb as it made a fool of him in his own bedroom, just like Ga'ran.

"Stupid orb!" Inga snapped, slapping the sacred artifact with the back of his hand and causing it to gently fall over on its side, cushioned by his tear-stained bad-memory-filled foam mattress. "I don't get it! I did what the riddle wanted! Every night for a whole week, I've passionately prayed to this damn thing for Ga'ran's death, especially after her late-night ambushes, and yet nothing! This orb's just like everyone in Ga'ran's family- useless, full of lies, and exist only to drive me mad! … That is, except Rayfa. She's a saint."

Inga let out an exasperated sigh as he placed the Founder's Orb in his secret safe and locked it up for the night.

"Damn riddle… Making me waste my time with that damn head monk… Could have had him attempt to kill Ga'ran…" Inga grumbled to himself as he climbed into his bed. "Well, no use crying over spilled milk. Right now, I should just focus on getting some sleep. After all, I can't endure what hell awaits me tomorrow if I don't have the energy."

After a few minutes of lightly sobbing into his pillow, Inga drifted off into a deep sleep where he was lucky enough to have one of his favorite recurring dreams. In this dream world, the Minister of Justice, who was just as muscular as his _Plumed Punisher_ depiction, was in the audience chamber, which in his head was one big stroke for his ego as it was filled to the brim with his likeness- gold busts of his head, giant marble statues of him standing shirtless and holding lightning bolts, and even a fountain structured to look like he was urinating in it- where he sat regally on the large, imposing gold throne reserved for the leader of Khura'in, where dozens of attractive, scantily-cladded women swooned over him and sang his praises.

"Oh, Minister Inga…" A busty blonde with long, wavy hair purred as she rubbed his shoulders. "Your handsomeness and strength is matched only by your genius intellect! How did you manage to crush the Defiant Dragons so easily?"

"What can I say, doll?" Inga smirked. "Catching crooks come naturally to me… among other things…"

The woman took a step back, letting out a longing sigh as she fanned her face with her hand.

"Minister Inga…" The woman moaned. "Every time you speak, I become the happiest woman in the world. That's why I'm your biggest fan!"

"Hold it right there!" An equally-busty woman with black hair styled in a bob cut snapped as she marched over to the other girl. "You can't be Minister Inga's biggest fan because I'M his biggest fan!"

"Oh, please!" The blonde huffed with a roll of her eyes. "You're not even worthy of being in the same room as Minister Inga!"

"Like you're worth his time? I scratch his head and know where his dandruff builds. Isn't that right, Minister Inga…?" The other girl whispered the last sentence in Inga's ear as she began to scratch his head.

"You jest! Minister Inga is the manliest man to ever exist, and like all manly men, he prefers shoulder rubs above head scratches!" The blonde objected as she started to rub Inga's shoulders.

"Ladies, Ladies…" Inga soothingly sighed. "There's no need to fight, see? There's plenty of me to go around."

"Oh, Minister Inga!" The women moaned simultaneously as they sat on his lap, wrapping their arms around the Minister's shoulders and flashing him sultry grins.

As a woman with long, straight red hair sauntered over to Inga, feeding him cookies like how a Roman emperor would be fed grapes, General Grievous from _Star Wars_ , wearing his long, flowing black cape, marched into the room, dragging Ga'ran, whose arms and legs were shackled, behind him before pushing her to the ground.

"My Lord…" Grievous said, bowing on one knee before Inga. "I have completed my orders and brought this vile witch before you."

"Good." Inga smirked. "Now start her trial."

"As you wish, My Lord…" Grievous replied, standing up and directing his attention to their prisoner, his large, hulking frame towering over her as she cowered on the ground like a mere child. "Ga'ran Sigatar Khura'in, you are on trial today for the crime of physically and emotionally abusing the handsomest, smartest, strongest man to ever exist. How do you plead?" The cyborg growled, his eyes narrowing as he glared daggers at the defendant.

"W-Well…" Ga'ran meekly stammered, her thoughts slipping from her mind out of sheer fear. "I feel that-"

"I've heard enough!" Grievous roared, punching a nearby wall with his robotic hand and leaving a sizeable hole behind. "As judge and executioner, I find the defendant guilty! And now to fulfil the later role…!" The cyborg remarked as he pulled out and activated two lightsabers, one blue and the other green.

"Wait!" Ga'ran wailed as tears filled her eyes. "Please, Minister Inga, have mercy on my soul! I was a fool to be so cruel to you! I now see the error of my ways and vow that if you spare my life, I will devote it to you- shower you with compliments, doing whatever you ask of me, not sodomizing you whenever you try to take a shower…! All I ask is that you show compassion and give me a second chance!"

"Shall I strike her down, Minister Inga?" grievous asked, turning to face Inga who had his thumb sticking out to the side like a Roman emperor watching a match at the colosseum.

"Too little, too late, Ga'ran…" Inga sneered, pointing his thumb down, signaling Grievous to continue with the execution.

Raising his mighty laser swords above his head, Grievous proceeded to swiftly bring his light sabers down with a fast, powerful stroke showcasing his might. However, before his attack landed, his weapons turned into ringing telephones which caused some pain for Ga'ran, but failed to mortally wound her, let alone kill.

Inga then found himself lying awake in his bed as he cast his glaring, bloodshot eyes at the ringing telephone on his nightstand that dared to disturb his slumber.

"Damn telemarketers! Why is it that they always rear their ugly mugs when there's joy in my life, but are nowhere to be found when Ga'ran wants to have sex or force me to accompany her to the theatre?!" Inga fumed as he picked up the phone

Though upon answering the call, the Minister's became all the angrier as his ears were assaulted by what appeared to be music, but sounded like the bastard child of a jazz band and a taiko drum, followed by one of the most pompous, snobby voices that he had ever heard.

"Hello, sir or ma'am, I am-"

"I don't care what you're selling! I don't want it!" Inga yelled as he slammed the phone on the receiver. However, almost immediately after hanging up, the phone began to ring again, and sure enough, upon answering it, Inga was greeted with the same annoying music and voice.

"Hello, sir or ma'am, I-"

"Go away!" Inga yelled, his face growing slightly redder, before violently ending the call once more.

But unfortunately for Inga, this telemarketer was either very stubborn, dumb, or had nothing better to do since he immediately called the Minister again…

* * *

"Hello, sir or ma'am, I-"

"Leave me alone!" Inga snarled before ending the call.

* * *

And again…

* * *

"Hello, sir or ma'am-"

"Quit calling this number!" Inga loudly screeched before hanging up once more.

* * *

And again…

* * *

"Hello, sir or-"

"Can't ya take freakin' hint, ya damn mook!?" Inga lividly roared before actually disconnecting his landline. "Ha! Try callin' me now, you son of a Ga'ran!" The Minister of Justice sneered as he got under his satin covers.

However, Inga's victory was short lived because about 30 seconds later, just as he was nice and snug under his covers, his cellphone began to ring, prompting the Minister's left eye to twitch as he slowly got out of bed and stomped over to his desk.

Inga didn't want to do this, he was tired and just wanted to go to sleep, but ministers of justice don't get that luxury. If he missed a phone call, it could result in a Defiant Dragon escaping justice, or a riot breaking out- errors that would end in Ga'ran beating him down, both verbally and physically, trying to kill him, or worse... That is why, despite how much Inga wanted to just throw his cellphone out the window and be done with this whole ordeal, he had to take the call on the off-chance he needed to perform his duties as minister of justice.

But given Inga's horrible luck in life, this was not the case as he was once again greeted to…

"Hello, sir or ma'am, I am-"

"Look, I am at my wits end here, see! I have to deal with the pigheaded leader of a terrorist group that keeps on evading me, a fat, cantankerous cow of a wife that I can't evade, _and_ I'm forced to eat high-fiber cereal on a daily basis that has turned my ass into an upside-down chocolate volcano! So the last thing I need is some asshat pestering me when I'm trying to get a moment of repose!" Inga roared, clenching his cellphone so hard that his knuckles began to turn white. "So stop calling this number, or I won't hesitate to sick the police on ya!"

"Sir, please calm down." The voice responded in a slightly irritated tone, as if Inga had irritated him. "Now, I am first and foremost a man of the people, and if you wish for me to leave you alone, I'll do just that. However, as a man who cares about public safety, I will not do that until after you listen to my important discovery involving our fair community."

Inga, who was in no mood to rally the secret police and fill out more paperwork than he had to, decided that it would be easier to just let the telemarketer say his piece so he could get back to sleep.

"*Sigh…* What's your announcement?" Inga groaned, feeling that he would quickly come to regret this conversation.

"I'm glad you asked, sir. Did you know that Kurain's water contains two-parts hydrogen and one-part oxygen?"

"Is that so…?" Inga growled through gritted teeth, mustering all of his willpower to stop himself from facepalming and cussing the moronic caller out. Sure, Khura'in wasn't exactly the most scientific nation out there, but even Inga knew the basic composition of water.

"I'm afraid so, sir. Hydrogen- the same gas used in the Hindenburg!" The man yelled, followed by what seemed to be the sound of a fist hitting a table. "Are we going to stand idly by and allow the current corrupt establishment to poison our children's drinking water with the same stuff used by the Nazis to fuel their accursed death blimps!?"

"Corrupt establishment…?" Inga growled, believing that the man was referring to Khura'in and how he and Ga'ran were running the nation. "Nothing could be farther from the truth, see? Now stop making up such outrageous stories or you won't have a mouth to talk with, capiche?"

"I know that it's hard to believe that our government would betray us, but there is still hope for the future! Elect me, Paul Atishon, to the Kurain Village Council and I will not rest until our humble village's water is 100-percent free of all forms of hydrogen! Remember, a vote for Paul Atishon is a vote for clean water for every woman, child, and pets of all species in Kurain! So, respected citizen, can I count on your vote to help reclaim the glory of Kurain?"

"Not on your life, airhead!" Inga snapped, his limit finally being reached.

"And why not, may I ask?" Atishon huffed. "Are you a Nazi!? Because only a Nazi would want to keep Kurain's water filled with hydrogen so they can make our children and women explode! That's right, I'm onto your evil plans to destroy everything that Kurain holds dear- bagels, musicals, blue-collar day labor- and I, nor the rest of my decent, ethically-sound constituents, will stand for it! So try as you may to cover our streets, houses, and clouds with swastikas, but the noble people of Kurain Village will fight you with everything we've got until the end of time! BANZAI! BANZAI! BANZAI!"

"No, Spartacus! I don't know where the hell Kurain Village is, but I'll have you now that I live in Khura'in, as in the COUNRTY!" Inga roared.

"Oh… I think I may have misread the phonebook." Atishon mumbled under his breath.

"Ya think!?" Inga snarled. "I'm surprised you can even read, considering that you don't know what water's made of! It's called H2O for a reason, you son of a Ga'ran! Now, I don't know what time it is in Knockoff Village, but here in Khura'in it's one in the freaking morning and as minister of justice, I need my sleep to keep myself from killing my wife with my bare hands!"

"Minister of Justice…?" Atishon said with astonishment in his voice.

"Yeah, something wrong with that?"

"Not at all, Minister…?"

"Inga, Inga Karkhuul Khura'in."

"Minister Inga… I am a young man a head full of ideas and a heart full of dreams, the cornerstones of any good politician. And while the mighty redwood is tall and awe-inspiring, even it starts off as a mere sapling that requires care and nurturing from those bigger and more experienced than it to grow. But while this process can seem like a waste of time at first, I can assure you that-"

"Get to the point, Atishon, or I won't hesitate to have my secret police hunt you down and make you." Inga groaned.

"The point I'm getting at: I need a benefactor- someone who'll graciously donate funds to help keep my election campaign running smoothly. And who better to do so than a minister of justice? Now, before you get all angry and refuse my request, I'm not asking for a free handout. If you agree to fund my campaign, I'll be more than willing to help you out with a few requests- you know, you scratch my back, I scratch yours, Circle of Life, etcetera."

"Anything…?" Inga asked, a sinister grin spreading across his face as he eyed his secret safe. "Even stuff that could result in, say… a coup d'état?"

"Minister Inga…" Atishon said with a chuckle. "I'm a politician. It wouldn't be right if I _weren't_ engaging in those kinds of deals."

"Excellent!" Inga smirked. "Ok, Atishon, I'll play your little game and help you out, but you'll be doing a little something for me first."

"What do you need?"

"Know anyone who's an expert at seventh century Khura'inese culture, particularly riddles?"

"Funny you ask, Minister Inga. Why, just 40 minutes ago, I visited Kurain Village's newest resident to secure his vote, an archeologist named Archie Buff."

"Is he any good? Because I can't afford any mistakes with this, see?"

"You need not worry, Minister Inga. Professor Buff's the kind of guy who can have a one-way discussion with you for 30 minutes about ancient cultures, going into detail about the diets, physical actives, family structure, and all sorts of stuff from just a few squiggles on a small stone. If anyone can help you out, it's him. Plus, since Buff's retired, he's so desperate for new artifacts to study that he'll take pretty much anything given to him with no questions asked."

"Alright…" Inga said with a bit of hesitation in his voice as he stroked his goatee. "Give me your email and we'll discuss this in further detail sometime tomorrow. But just remember- mess this up and I'll have my boys hunt you down like a dog."

"Wonderful! You won't regret this, Minister Inga. I think that this will be the start of a wonderful friendship!" Atishon remarked as he ended the call.

 _Yeah, as wonderful as my marriage to Ga'ran… But if it means solving that damn riddle and making Rayfa more spiritually powerful, I'll tolerate it._ Inga internally groaned as Atishon gave him his email address.

After exchanging farewells with his new associate, Inga wasted no time in putting his cellphone on his nightstand and getting into his bed, pleased with how he managed to knock two birds out with one stone. However, right as the Minister of Justice closed his eyes, he heard a soft knock at his door.

"Why!?" Inga wailed. "Does Ga'ran feel that I'm not suffering enough tonight and wants to fix that with her damn paddle!?" The Minister of Justice leapt out of his bed with clenched fists and teeth as he stormed over to the door. "I swear, if I open that door and find Ga'ran giving me that freaking 'I'm horny' smile of hers, she's getting a fist right in the kisser! I don't care how she'd punish me! Hell, at this point, I'm willing to sign my own execution papers just to get some rest!"

But when Inga unlocked and opened the door, his anger quickly diminished when he saw not Ga'ran, but Rayfa standing before him.

"Rayfa, what are you doing up. We've both got busy days tomorrow, see?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt your sleep, Father." Rayfa said as she eyed the ground. "It's just… Would it be too much trouble if I slept in your private quarters tonight?"

"Rayfa, as your father, I'll always love you and do whatever I can to help you, but you're 14. You can't sleep in my room whenever you feel like it without it getting weird."

"But Father, I had an awful, awful nightmare that continues to terrify me to my very core!" Rayfa said with terror in her voice.

 _My life's one big nightmare, but you don't see me complaining._ "Rayfa, it's probably not as bad as you think. Maybe if you tell me about it, you'll feel better."

"Ok…" Rayfa reluctantly answered, obviously still shaken up by the experience. "In my dream, I was sitting in my private quarters, minding my own business, when out of the blue, Mother burst in, wearing her old prosecutor's outfit as she brandished her paddle. Then, before I could even have a chance to react, she jumped on my bed before mercilessly beating me with said paddle as she told me how ugly, stupid, and worthless I am…"

At this point, Rayfa was beginning to whimper, one of the few things in this world that could melt Inga's ice-cold heart, sniffling a little before resuming her story.

"But… But just as I thought it couldn't get any worse, Mother then began to strangling me to the point where I started to black out, my world becoming engulfed in darkness as her shrill cackling filled the air… So please, Father, let me stay with you tonight!" Rayfa wailed as she squeezed her father in a bear hug, slightly soaking his pajamas with her tears.

 _Just add some Barry White playing in the background and you have a typical Friday night for me… Nevertheless, that isn't the kind of imagery that my little princess should have to deal with alone!_ "Ok, ok, you can sleep here tonight. Just stop with the waterworks. You know I can't stand to see you cry."

"Oh, thank you, Father! Thank you!" Rayfa squealed, a smile spreading across her face as she squeezed Inga's torso even harder. "You're the kindest man to ever exist!"

"Don't mention it, Rayfa… Really, don't. I've got a lot on my plate and I don't need your mother's contempt towards me taking up even more space on it."

"Alright, Father!" Rayfa chirped as she let go of Inga's torso and rushed into his private quarters as he closed and locked the door behind her.

Wasting no time, Rayfa quickly pounced onto the left side of Inga's bed like a lioness on a wildebeest and wasted no time in snuggling up under the covers as her father made his way over to the right side.

"Father, can you please make me some warm milk?" Rayfa innocently asked, her head being the only part of her body that wasn't under the soft covers.

"Rayfa, have mercy on your poor father. I just wanna get some sleep. Can't you go without it?" Inga pleaded as he rubbed his eyes in order to keep himself awake.

"But Father, I can't sleep if I don't consume a glass of warm milk! Nayna does it for me!" Rayfa objected.

"Do I look like Nayna to you?" Inga wryly retorted. "If you want that kind of treatment so badly, then go stay with her."

"But Father! The servants' quarters are so far away, and Nayna isn't strong enough to defeat Mother if she tries to attack me!"

 _Like I'm any better? If I could defeat Ga'ran on my own, you think I'd stay here?_ "Fine, I'll get your milk, but you better fall right to sleep without a single peep."

"Don't worry, Father, I will." Rayfa reassured Inga as he made his way to his little kitchen area in another portion of the building.

Fortunately for Inga, while Ga'ran was merciless when it came to his diet, forbidding him from enjoying anything that could give him joy, she did allow him to have milk, so he was set in that regard. Though unfortunately for Inga, he was as skilled in the kitchen as his wife was tender in the bedroom. So suffice to say, the Minister of Justice suffered many an injury while preparing Rayfa's warm beverage including, but not limited to, dropping the pot on his foot, hurting his other foot after kicking the stove when it wouldn't turn on, and suffering multiple burns when the milk burst out of the pot like water from a geyser.

So after 20 agonizing minutes in the kitchen, Inga emerged, covered in bandages, carrying a tray with a piping hot cup of milk on it.

"Here's your milk." Inga groaned as he lowered the tray towards his daughter.

"What took you so long, Father? I was starting to get worried." Rayfa calmly asked as she quickly grabbed the cup and began sipping the drink, lightly blowing on it between sips to make the heat more bearable.

"Don't ask. So, how's the milk?" Inga asked after plopping face down on his side of the bed.

After taking another sip of her drink, Rayfa smacked her lips before cocking her head in contemplation and spending a few seconds to ponder over her answer.

"Smooth, creamy, heated just right… I have to say, Father, I'm most impressed. Your warm milk tastes almost as good as Nayna's. If only you added a pinch of cinnamon like she does…"

"Good for Nayna. Let's celebrate her skills in the kitchen by getting some sleep." Inga wearily suggested, his voice muffled by his sheets.

"Father…?" Rayfa asked as she gently rubbed Inga's shoulder. "I'm sorry if I'm coming off as a bother, but can you please tell me a bedtime story? I really need one to help me get over what Mother did to me in that nightmare."

 _If I needed to hear a story every time Ga'ran's tortured me, even the Brothers Grimm would start to run out of ideas._ "*Sigh…* If it'll help us both get to sleep faster…" Inga groaned as he sat up, leaning his back against the headboard, as Rayfa rested her head on his chest.

After clearing his throat, Inga began his tale.

"Once upon a time, there was a prosecutor- a little rough around the edges, but nonetheless he was a good man who only wanted the best for society. He was a skilled at his job, with a wit as sharp as a dagger and a tongue just as cutting. Oh, and at one point he was a great soccer player, having scored five goals in one game at the height of his career."

Inga paused, taking a deep breath and patting Rayfa's shoulder before continuing.

"… But alas, all good things must come to an end. For one day, the skies above Khura'in became dark as thick clouds rolled in, blocking out the sun's life-giving light, as the giant, fat, ugly spider-whale invaded the land. Who would fight the evil spider-whale? Who would protect the innocent people from its incessant nagging and cold, merciless nether regions? Who would satisfy its… needs? Having to pick someone to undergo these tasks, all the people of Khura'in stepped back, sacrificing the prosecutor to her, or perhaps the Holy Mother pushed him forward… Nevertheless, a cold, loveless marriage came into existence that day as the spider-whale forced the prosecutor to take her old job as minister of justice and made him make love to her whenever she felt like it. Sometimes the prosecutor was lucky and would only have to deal with the cold, saggy torture twice a week, but more often than not, he would have to deal with it around eight to ten times- four to six if he was quick in the shower and did it early enough in the morning. And so, the poor prosecutor, who was at one time a skilled athlete and a hero to his country, laid down and cried, praying that the Holy Mother would strike Khura'in with an asteroid and put him out of his misery… The end."

Inga looked down and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that Rayfa had fallen asleep at some point during the story.

"You've read my mind, Rayfa." Inga remarked as his eyes lowly began to close and he warm feeling of a deep sleep began to engulf his entire being.

But unfortunately, Inga's sleep was short-lived once more as he was snapped back in to the waking realm by the sound of someone knocking on his door.

Getting out his bed again, though carefully as to not wake Rayfa, Inga stormed over to his door and flung it open, ready to give whoever had the gall to disturb him this time no mercy. However, just like with Rayfa earlier, Inga's bravado and anger quickly left his body the second he opened the door. But unlike with Rayfa, who replaced his rage with a warm feeling of love, this person instead replaced Inga's wrath with pure terror.

Standing before the Minister of Justice was a being with the body of General Grievous, but with Ga'ran's head.

"Hello there…" The cyborg abomination purred, flashing Inga a sultry grin as the color drained from his face.

Inga then proceeded to slowly close the door and lock it. However, that did little to help him as the Ga'ran monster proceeded to rip the door off its hinges with ease, effortlessly throwing it behind her like one would a scrap piece of paper before marching into the building.

"No!" Inga yelled, his eyes bugging out as he slowly backed away until his back hit the wall. "This ain't right!"

"Oh, but it is…" The Ga'ran cyborg sneered. "I've always been greater than you, Inga, both in politics _and_ in the bedroom!"

With lightning-fast reflexes, the Ga'ran cyborg grabbed Inga by the collar of his shirt and threw him to the ground, followed by firmly planting her large, clawed metal foot square on the Minister's chest, grinning ear to ear as he desperately tried to squirm free, but to no avail.

"Is that all you've got, Inga? Though I shouldn't be surprised, given your disappointing history. Nevertheless, it'll make this all the more fun…" The Ga'ran cyborg jeered before tearing off Inga's pants and underwear with one swift motion, followed by splitting her arms into four as she used one to lift up his legs, exposing his rear end, as she took out three long purple dildos with the remaining arms. "Before we start, how about a little music?"

At that moment, Barry White's _Never Gonna Give You Up_ began to play, prompting Inga to scream in terror and squirm even more vigorously. Seeing that the mood was set, the Ga'ran cyborg raised her three erotic weapon-wielding arms, aiming at the now-weeping Minister's derriere before mercilessly lunging them all simultaneously towards their intended target with tremendous power.

However, before Inga was harmed, he woke up screaming and shot up into a sitting position, his body trembling and covered in cold sweat.

Looking over at the nearby clock on his nightstand, Inga saw that it was only an hour had passed since he talked to Atishon over the phone. Understandably shaken up from his nightmare, Inga knew that he wouldn't be able to spend the four hours of sleep he had left in his room and, gathering up his sheets and pillow, did the one thing that he could do.

* * *

A few minutes later in Rayfa's private quarters, the princess was in a deep sleep, dreaming sweet dreams of her fighting Dhurke and the Defiant Dragons with the Plumed Punisher, when she was suddenly woken up from her slumber by the sound of someone knocking on her door.

Dragging herself out of bed while rubbing the fogginess out of her eyes, Rayfa slowly waddled over to her bedroom door, which upon opening, she found her father, the proud minister of justice who had struck fear into civilians and criminals alike, cowering in her hallway like a stray puppy in the rain.

"Did you have the nightmare again, Father?" Rayfa asked with a concerned tone.

"Uh-huh…" Inga timidly responded with a soft nod.

"Do you want to spend the rest of the night with me?"

"Uh-huh…" Inga responded with another nod.

"Well don't you worry, Father. You're safe with me. And to make you feel better, I'll even tell you a bedtime story!" Rayfa chirped, gently grabbing Inga's arm as she guided him into her room. "Once upon a time, there was a strong, smart, beautiful princess named Rayfa. She was beloved by everyone in Khura'in as she and her best friend, the Plumed Punisher, defended the land from the evil Dhurke and his dastardly Defiant Dragons. One day…"

Rayfa continued telling her story to Inga as she slowly closed the door and proceeded to take the spare cot out of her closet that she saved for just such an occasion. And much to the young princess' joy and relief, her father fell sound asleep in his temporary bed a few minutes later, once more enjoying the sweet dream of Ga'ran being punished by a psychotic cyborg from a movie series that he binge watched on his laptop while hiding from Ga'ran in the bathroom on many occasions.


	10. To Clean a Rebel's Clock

**A/N:** I know that this chapter took a while to be uploaded, but when life throws a hardball, it's a bowling ball going at Mach 11. Nevertheless, here is the tenth chapter of The Imperial Daddy. I hope it was well worth the wait.

Speaking of this story, after much thinking, I have decided that this will be a 12-chapter story. So the next chapter will be the last regular one before the finale.

* * *

After having to stomach down his daily bowl of Fiber None cereal for breakfast, which he could of sworn Ga'ran created solely for the sake of punishing him, Inga entered Rayfa's private quarters, where Nayna was standing by the stairway leading up to the young princess' bedroom with a worried look on her face.

"So, how's Rayfa doing?"

"Same as yesterday, Inga." Nayna sullenly replied with a shake of her head. "That attorney really did a number on her confidence. I've never seen the poor dear so broken."

"She still hasn't left her room?"

"She briefly left once or twice to use the bathroom, but whenever I'd try to console her, she'd just run back in, balling her eyes out and yelling how she wanted to be alone."

"I see…" Inga morosely noted as he started to make his way up the stairs.

"Don't waste your breath trying to cheer her up, Inga. You know how stubborn Rayfa can be when she's like this. But then again, that shouldn't be much of a surprise considering who her father is…" Nayna smirked, prompting the Minister of Justice to waste no time in turning around and flashing the 'elderly' servant a death glare.

"You'd better be referring to my headstrong attitude and the wellspring of fortitude that has allowed me to be married to your sister for over two decades without jumping off Mt. Poniponi, see…!" Inga snarled. "Because otherwise…" The Minister of Justice took a crumpled up execution paper from his pocket before slamming it against the wall and stamping it with gusto.

"Inga, Inga, Inga…" Nayna chuckled with a shake of her head. "If there's one thing Rayfa got from you, it's your bravado and ability to make empty threats. After all, you know fully well why I'll never be executed."

"Damn it, Amara...!" Inga snarled as he returned the execution paper to his pocket. "You always know how to push all the wrong buttons, see!"

"What can I say? It's a gift bestowed upon all those descended from Her Holiness." Nayna tittered before returning to a more serious countenance. "But in all seriousness, Inga. You can't deny how many similar Rayfa and Dhurke-"

"Listen here, Amara!" Inga roared, half tempted to charge at the former queen who had the gall to remind him of the cruel fact that Rayfa was merely his child by adoption. "Rayfa and Dhurke are nothing alike! Nothing at all, see!? Dhurke's a loudmouth, bluffing, blowhard terrorist who has made life hell for me, while Rayfa, on the other hand, is a kind, sweet, smart girl who has done nothing but give me joy in an otherwise bleak and pain-filled existence! And I refuse to view that damn dragon as her biological dad!"

"You know, Inga, she gets those good qualities from me."

"Shut up!" Inga snapped, wadding up the execution paper in his pocket before throwing it at Nayna's head, which, as one would think, merely bounced off and fell to the ground without doing any real damage.

"Inga, that was just plain sad, and this is after Ga'ran showed me a video of you crying and trying to fight her off with a bowl as she tried to make love with you a few mornings ago."

"How about instead of running off that big mouth of yours, you leave me to comfort my daughter in peace." Inga growled.

"Fine, have it your way, Inga…" Nayna stated as she left the building, allowing Inga to the climb the stairs, each pace making louder the wails of sadness from behind the locked door of his beloved daughter's bedroom.

"Rayfa…" Inga stated as he lightly rapped his knuckle on the pink door. "You wanna talk?"

"No! Go away!" Rayfa shrieked.

"You sure? 'Cause you can talk to me about anything that's bothering you, see?" Inga stated in as comforting a tone he could muster.

"Well I don't want to talk about it! Just leave me alone!"

Not one to calmly sit back and let his daughter suffer, Inga took out the spare key to Rayfa's bedroom that he kept on him and used it to unlock the door, and upon entering the room, the Minister of Justice flinched at the state of the place.

The windows, which would let in plenty of natural light, were completely covered by their blinds, leaving the dimly illuminated lamp hanging above Rayfa's bed as the only source of light and making the place feel like a cave. Though that was the least of Inga's worried as he looked to the ground, noticing a plethora of used, crumpled tissues scattered about the ground around the bed, which, under a large mound of quivering, sobbing covers, housed his poor, emotionally distraught daughter.

"Come on, Rayfa. I know you're not in the best of moods, but at least turn on some lights." Inga sullenly commented as he flipped the light switch, prompting the young princess to stick her head of unkempt hair out from underneath the covers to glare daggers at her father with red, tearstained eyes.

"No, I don't deserve light! Light is for winners, not worthless failures like meeeee!" Rayfa wailed, burying her face into her covers as she resumed her crying.

"Don't say that, Rayfa. You're not a failure, you're an extremely capable young lady." Inga softly retorted, sitting down on the edge of his daughter's bed as he lightly stroked her hair.

"Don't try to make me feel better, Father! My Divination Séance was a complete failure because I'm a useless nincompoop!"

"Rayfa, listen to me." Inga said, grabbing the princess by her shoulder so that he could look her in the eye. "You did that séance perfectly. The only failure in that courtroom was that bum chief prosecutor who arrested the wrong guy."

"But it still doesn't change the fact that I was chased out by that vile barb headed attorney!" Rayfa growled, her face reddening as she clenched her fist. "Ooh… I have never faced such humiliation in all of my days! Curse Barbed Head, curse him to the foulest depths of Hell!"

"Well, don't you worry, Rayfa. After that trial let out, I gave that mook what for…" Inga smirked. "Yeah, I stared him down, and then told him just who he was messing with… that if he tries that kind of stunt again, things may not end so nicely for him."

"Really?" Rayfa asked with a sniffle.

"Of course! No one hurts my daughter and gets away with it, especially not some no-goodnik foreign attorney- strutting into _my_ courtroom with his cheap, ugly blue suit and jagged hair, acting all high an' mighty like he owned the joint. Just who does he think he is?"

"I don't know, but I do know what he is: a foolish nincompoop!" Rayfa chirped with a grin.

"That's right, Rayfa." Inga jovially stated as he ruffled his daughter's hair. "'Cause if he's dumb enough to try defending another crook, I'll do everything in my power to make sure the DC Act sends that mook on a one-way trip to the Twilight Realm, see? I'd even go the extra mile and arrange it for Prosecutor Sahdmadhi to prosecute that case. After all, who better to strike down a wretched attorney than the child of one…? So, feel any better?"

"Uh-huh…" Rayfa sad with a soft nod, taking out a tissue from beneath her covers and drying her eyes out.

"Good. Need anything before I head out?"

"Well…" Rayfa said, cocking her head to the side and tapping her chin in contemplation. "There is one thing…"

"Yeah, I'm listening."

"A few days ago, I saw a wonderful episode of _The Plumed Punisher_ where they showed a promotion for a limited-edition clock that plays the theme song every hour, which they will be giving to 50 lucky viewers, and I was wondering…"

"If I'd make sure you were one of the lucky ones?"

"If it's not too much trouble, Father. I know how hard you work, and the last thing that I'd want is to burden you with my selfish request." Rayfa sullenly stated, looking down at the bed in shame. "But I really want that clock!" The princess proclaimed as she looked up with her father with saucer-sized eyes filled with desire. "I've sent in at least 100 submissions, but I'm worried that I won't get it!"

"Trouble? Ha! As if…! I'm Justice Minister Inga! I get what I want, when I want! So if I wanna get my Rayfa a Plumed Punisher clock, then I'm gonna get her a Plumed Punisher clock! Heck, I've got so much clout that I even get stuff that I _don't_ want!" _Just ask Ga'ran…_

"Oh, thank you, Father! You don't know how much this means to me!" Rayfa rejoiced as she squeezed her father in a bear hug.

"Don't mention it, Rayfa. I'll have that clock here so fast that the manufacturers' heads'll be spinning!" Inga smirked as he chomped down on his cigar stamp.

* * *

"Whaddya mean you can't get me a clock?!" Inga roared, squeezing the life out of his poor cellphone. "I'm the show's freankin' producer and writer! If I want something Plume Punisher-related, whether it's a shirt or mask or tennis shoe that I'll shove up your ass, I'm getting it, end of discussion! And if you've gotta problem with it, I can sign ya right up at the top of my execution list, Mr. Mah'nu Fac'tor!"

"B-But, Minister Inga…" Mah'nu nervously stammered. "The contest… it ended yesterday and we're currently delivering the clocks to the homes of the lucky recipients. So as much as I'd love to give you a clock- and trust me, I really, really would- there are none to give."

"Then make one or I'll have one made out of your skull, see?" Inga snarled through clenched teeth.

"But… But that would put the number of clocks at 51…"

"So, make a 51st clock. What are you, daft?"

"Oh, no, no, nooo…" Mah'nu said with a definitive tone of apprehension. "If word gets out that we produced a clock solely for Her Benevolence, the entire _Plumed Punisher_ fan base will go mad! Our company can't afford any more angry mobs!"

"Really…?" Inga sneered. "You do realize that the show's fan base consists mainly of small children, right? Even I could fight 'em of!"

"Don't underestimate the might of children, Inga. Last month, we released a Plumed Punisher action figure that accidentally had an orange cape instead of a red one and the fans reacted by breaking five of our factory's windows, assaulting three guards who tried to stop them, and attempting to light the building on fire. If it wasn't for the police showing up, we would've been done for!"

"Oh right, I remember… You reported that a group of Defiant Dragons were attacking the place, but all my boys found when getting there were a bunch of brats running away with their tails between their legs."

"Yes, so if they found out about us producing an extra clock for Her Benevolence, coupled with rising Defiant Dragon support among the youths because of yesterday's not-guilty fiasco… Holy Mother, I don't even want to think about what would happen to my poor factory!" Mah'nu bemoaned.

"Well, then give me the mailing list! And don't you try none of that 'we respect our customer's privacy' crap! 'Cause Rayfa made us sign up for the Plum Punisher Post phone service and you mooks are always calling me at ungodly hours of the damn night!"

"Minister Inga, as long as Her Eminence keeps giving us tax exemptions, we'll give you whatever documents you want." Mah'nu said in a smug, sleazy tone- a complete 180 from his emotional state mere seconds prior. "Just give me a minute to email them to you..."

"Now that's what I like to hear." Inga smirked.

"Oh, while we're on the topic, Minister Inga, how would you like to join the Plumed Punisher Email Patrol? Only five dahmas a month to get breaking news on all _Plumed Punisher_ related merchandise."

"Don't push your luck, buddy." Inga growled.

"R-Right, s-sorry…" The CEO stated as he reverted back to his meek nature.

* * *

Later, in the precinct's conference room, Inga paced back and forth, staring at the officers who were standing at attention in neat, orderly rows.

"You are some of the most capable men in our great kingdom, forged from extensive physical and mental training to be the best crime fighters you could be. Is this true?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The officers shouted in unison.

"Well, that's what I though until yesterday when you lazy bums and that useless chief prosecutor made a mockery of my courtroom with that Blight guy getting that Ahlbi brat a non-guilty verdict… Ahlbi, for cryin' out loud!" Inga growled as he glared daggers at men. "Now, any other guy wouldn't hesitate to fire the lot of you, but because I'm so kind and merciful, I'm willing to give you mooks a second chance, see? Now, are you ready to redeem yourselves?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"In that case, listen up because we can't afford to waste time." Inga stated as he took out a clicker, which upon pressing turned on a projector that flashed a picture of Rayfa in her smug pose on a large screen at the front of the room. "This is Rayfa, your princess and my lovely daughter. Now, because of your shoddy work yesterday, Rayfa is now…" The screen transitioned to a picture of Rayfa with a sullen expression on her face. "Sad. So how are we gonna fix this problem? Simple..."

After fiddling with the clicker for a few seconds, Inga managed to transition the screen to a picture of the Plumed Punisher clock.

"We get this clock for Rayfa. Now, after talking to the spineless mook running Chee'opo Toys, I found out that there is a single clock being delivered as we speak in this cart…" A picture of a simple cart with a yellow banner depicting a broken cartoon robot head and the name 'Chee'opo Toys' written in Khura'inese nailed to the side was flashed on the screen. "which will pass through this location here." A map of the capital city with an 'x' placed over a specific intersection near the Bazaar appeared on screen. "Now, your task will be to split into three groups and intercept the cart and bring the clock back to me. Understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The officers stated in unison once again.

"Now, given the importance of this mission, failure is not an option, see? So if this job goes down the tubes, I won't fire you. No, that'd be too nice. Instead, I'll make each and every one of you watch a video of Ga'ran dancing around in THIS!"

Inga transitioned the screen to a picture of Ga'ran posing seductively in a tight, see-through purple negligee, causing most of the officers to burst out in fits of screaming, their wide, unblinking eyes unable to look away from the screen, with those of slightly stronger constitutions being able to power through the horrid imagery and cover their faces.

"That's right…!" Inga stated with a maniacal, toothy grin and saucer-sized crazy eyes. "Gaze upon the abject horror! Bask in the unholy splendor of those painted on, masculine eyebrows, those thick frog lips, and that menopausal belly fat! Flee from this room and complete your mission as the image of what I have to go home to every night is burnt into your minds and souls for all eternity!"

Upon being dismissed, the officers wasted no time in fleeing from the room screaming. However, one officer, instead of rushing out of the building with the rest of the secret police, snuck down a nearby flight of stairs and into the dimly lit, vacant basement of the precinct and took out his cellphone.

"Is the apple orchard clear?" A deep, hushed voice asked.

"The horse trots through the pasture." The officer whispered, holding the cellphone close to his cheek as he carefully eyed his surroundings to make sure that he was truly alone.

"Good to hear, Nee'spee!" Dhurke bellowed. "Anything from the enemy front?"

"That depends, are you going to be quiet for once?" The rebel snapped as he nervously scanned the area. "I can't spy on the secret police if I get arrested because you can't use your inside voice!"

"Sorry, Nee'spee." Dhurke stated in a quieter tone. "I'm still getting used to having a spy in our ranks."

"Clearly..." The Defiant Dragon said with a roll of his eyes.

"So, what news do you bring?"

"Big news, Dhurke. Inga has sent the secret police on a mission that could very well be our biggest blow to the Ga'ran regime yet. Essentially…"

Nee'spee told Dhurke everything that Inga had told him and the other officers, including the Ga'ran negligee punishment- if he had to suffer with that imagery, then so would the rest of the rebels.

"Holy mother of the Holy Mother…" Dhurke responded with a tone of shock and awe. "Is this true, Nee'spee?"

"Trust me, Dhurke. Who in their right mind would make up such a sick punishment…?" Nee'spee stated with a shudder. "Almost makes me feel sorry for Inga… almost."

"Well, go out there and continue your work while I rally the Dragons present with me. And remember, Nee'spee, a dragon never yields… After we claim the clock, that phrase will provide you strength when Inga punishes you and the rest of his thugs with that video."

"Yes, Dhurke." The spy said with a nod before ending the call and rushing back up the stairs.

* * *

In Dhurke's dusty, insect-filled law firm, the leader of the Defiant Dragons, with Datz at his right, stood before a group of about 20 or 30 other rebels.

"Fellow Defiant Dragons, lend me your ears…!" Dhurke assertively stated with a raised hand. "After talking with our new spy within Inga's secret police, Nee'spee Po'nage, I have learned of an important opportunity… one that will allow us to land a crippling blow against both the secret police and Ga'ran in one fell swoop! We shall steal… a Plumed Punisher Clock!"

Upon hearing this news, a wave of confused murmurs spread about the room like wildfire, the other rebels concerned as to whether their brave, charismatic leader had finally gone mad.

"Now, I know this may seem like a fool's errand, but rest assured, it isn't. You see, Inga has devoted every ounce of manpower he has to steal that clock. Why would Inga do such a move, you may ask…? Apparently, Her Benevolence was so devastated by the Fighting Phoenix's victory yesterday that she needs that clock to get out of her sullen state. And that's where we come in…"

"You mean we're getting the princess a clock?" A stern-looking bald-headed man wearing a yellow and red robe asked. "Look Dhurke, I didn't become a dragon to suck up to the royal family."

"And we're not, Su'urnd." Dhurke calmly replied. "Think about it, if we are in possession of the clock that Her Benevolence desires so badly…"

"They'll have to bargain with us if they want it back, or run the risk of no Divination Séances..." A man with wavy, black hair waring a cap and a green robe stated with a sly grin. "I like the way you think, Dhurke."

"Exactly, Smu'Glese. This clock can serve as a powerful trump card in our quest to rid the land of Ga'ran's corrupt rule and the DC Act! That is why I am putting Datz in charge of claiming the clock, which will be in a Chee'opo Toys cart that will be passing through the intersection of Ga'ran Street and Amara Avenue outside of the Bazaar…" Dhurke stated as he put a firm hand on Datz shoulder. "while the rest of you distract Inga's goons and so that Datz can do his part of the mission. Dragons, soar forth and strike with unyielding might!" Dhurke bellowed at the top of his lungs, holding his arm out and clenching his fingers to resemble a dragon's maw as his fellow rebels descended into the sewers.

However, Dhurke quickly stopped Datz before he could leave.

"Datz, before you go, I need you to send word out to the other dragons in the field to head over to the Bazaar and fight any members of the secret police they come across."

"Can do, Dhurke!" Datz replied with a toothy grin and two thumbs up. "Anything else?"

"Hmm…" Dhurke cocked his head to the side for a brief moment, contemplating the situation before returning focus to his right-hand man. "Yes, in order to ensure victory, we need to rally as many people as we can muster, even if they aren't dragons."

"Got any particular groups in mind?" Datz asked as he peeled an apple with his kukri.

"Indeed." Dhurke said with a sinister grin. "One whose presence will be as powerful as it will be ironic..."

* * *

About 15 or so minutes later, Inga was sitting in his office, with several walkie-talkies placed on his desk, when suddenly one of them, with a large 'A' written in marker on a piece of tape attached to the side beeped, prompting the Minister of Justice to answer it without hesitation.

"Leader A, what's your status? You got the clock?"

"Yes, Minister Inga. We found the cart right where you said it would be and have claimed the clock for ourselves." Officer Reesig Neede calmly replied as he held the Plumed Punisher clock in his free arm like one would a baby. "Preparing to- Officers, ready yourselves! We've got company!" The veteran law enforcer stated in an uncharacteristically panicked tone.

"Neede, what the hell's going on out there?" Inga asked with a tone of mild concern, not for the officers, but for the clock. If something were to happen to it, there'd be no way he could face Rayfa.

"Dragons, and lots of 'em!" Reesig yelled as he punched a rebel who was charging at him in the throat with the hand holding the walkie-talkie before tripping another one with a low-sweeping kick.

"Dammit, Dhurke…!" Inga snarled as he slammed his fist on his desk. "Look, Neede, as much as I'd like to see you guys put the kibosh on those Defiant Thorns, the clock's our main priority, see? So leave those mooks alone for the time being and get back to the precinct."

"Trust me, Minister, I would love to do that…" Reesig stated as he delivered a powerful elbow to a rebel's jaw, forcing the man to the ground with a stream of blood trickling from the side of his mouth. "But these damn rebels got us surrounded! And to make things worse, I sent Ooute to a prime spot to provide cover fire for just such an emergency and he hasn't confirmed his position since we left!"

"Ok, just keep your mitts on that clock for as long as you can. I'll send one of the other groups your way." Inga put down the walkie-talkie and grabbed one with the letter 'B' on it. "Group B-"

"Not a good time, Minister Inga!" The officer yelled as he and his teammates fought against several rebels. "Dhurke's goons got us pinned down! We need backup and we need it now!"

Upon hearing this news, Inga picked up the third and final walkie-talkie with the letter 'C' on the side. "Group C, what's your status?"

"Minister Inga! Thank the Holy Mother you called!" The office screamed. "You won't believe the hell we're going through!"

"Let me guess, you're being attacked by the Dragons." Inga groaned.

"No, worse! Somehow, _The_ _Plumed Punisher_ fans got wind of the clock and are swarming us like army ants in search of it! We don't know how long we can- Holy Mother above, the fat, creepy adult male fans have just arrived…! And they have brooms and plastic-"

"Officer! Officer, do you read me!?" Inga yelled into the walkie-talkie, but all he could hear was the crackling of static. "Dammit!" The Minister roared as he slammed the defunct walkie-talkie on his desk. "Of all days and all the places in Khura'in to strike, Dhurke just had to choose the area where Rayfa's Plumed Punisher clock is! Did Ga'ran give him pointers on picking the worst times to screw me over?! Because this isn't Dhurke's normal shtick- too aggressive and large-scale, even for that loudmouthed blowhard…"

Inga got up and walked over to and looked out a nearby window that gave him a nice view of the city from his seventh story office as he thought of how to handle the situation.

"No matter what Dhurke's trying to do, he needs to be stopped. I can't risk losing that clock because of those idealistic mooks. …Well, if Dhurke and his Defiant Douchebags wanna play hardball, then I'll be more than happy to play his little game…" Inga smirked as he pulled out his cellphone and made a call.

"Hello?" A cold, yet calming male voice stated upon being connected with the Minister.

"Execute Operation Avian Princess. Head to the intersection at Ga'ran Street and Amara Avenue and make sure the Plumed Punisher Clock there remains in police custody. Use any means necessary to ensure your success, even if ya got to gut a few dragons to do so."

"Yes, My Minister." The voice replied before ending the call.

"Well, Dhurke, you and your boys think you can mess with the Plumed Punisher? Well, let's see how tough you are when her inspiration cuts ya down to size." Inga sneered as he chomped down on his cigar stamp.

* * *

About 10 minutes later, despite the valiant efforts of Group A, the officers had been overwhelmed by the Defiant Dragons. Exhausted, Reesig laid on his side next to his downed fellow officers, his arms wrapped around the Plumed Punisher Clock like a clamp as Datz stood over him, giving him his infamous smirk.

"This… This is the best the big, bad secret police had to offer? I've had meals that put up more of a fight than that!" Datz joked, bursting out into laughter and pointing at the downed officer.

"Screw… Screw you, Are'bal!" Reesig panted as he flashed the rebel a death glare. "We… We would have won… if you damn rebels… weren't such cowards… with your damn ambush!"

"We aren't cowards, we're strategic." Datz stated with a more serious countenance. "You've gotta be when you're hunted down like a dog 'round the clock. Now, why don't you be a good sport and hand over the clock?" The rebel grinned as he started to peel an apple with his kukri.

"Over my dead- ugh…!" Reesig grunted as a sharp pain rushed through his side.

"Oh my Holy Mother, you're so pathetic that it's funny!" Datz chuckled as he burst into another fit of laughter before quickly calming down with a sigh. "But in all seriousness, I'll be taking that clock now."

Datz bent down to take the clock for himself and the Defiant Dragons, but before he could, he was interrupted by one of his fellow rebels.

"Wait, who's that?" The man said with a confused look, pointing to a figure standing a bit off in the distance dressed as Lady Kee'ra.

Datz, upon looking to see who the rebel was referring to, predictably burst out into laughter.

"Hahaha! Um, buddy, hate to break this to you, but it's a bit early for Khura'ineen!"

The figure- a disguised Rheel Neh'mu- was unresponsive, completely speechless and motionless as they stared at Datz.

"Oh, I get it. You're one of those obsessive _Plumed Punisher_ fans who's pretending that they're from the show and are here for the clock. Well, sorry to break this to you, but this clock has been claimed by the Defiant Dragon for the sake of your freedom. So-"

Rheel slid a warbaa'd dagger from his sleeve and pointed it at Datz.

"Ooh, a plastic dagger!" Datz melodramatically bemoaned with a grin on his face. "Watch out, guys, 'she' might scratch you!"

Suddenly, without a single moment of warning, the Rheel dashed towards the rebels at a breakneck pace, appearing as a yellow and black blur as he began to cut down every Defiant Dragon in his path.

"That's no fake dagger!" Datz exclaimed with a look of terror in eyes as he watched this Lady Kee'ra slicing down his comrades one by one as if they were mere blades of grass, leaving their lifeless corpses to rest in a crimson sea of blood.

"Datz, what should we do?! She's literally killing us!" One of the remaining rebels asked with a tone of panic.

"Only one thing left to do, fellow dragon: tactical retreat! Make your way back to the rendezvous point!" Datz replied as he ripped the clock out of Reesig's hands with surprisingly little effort and began to make a run for it into the Bazaar.

However, Rheel, not willing to let Datz escape, dashed in front of him, pointing his blood-stained dagger at the high-ranking rebel.

"So, you want a piece of Datz Are'bal, eh…? Well, who am I to disappoint?" Datz smirked as he pulled down his goggles over his eyes and took out his kukri.

Without a moment of hesitation, Datz and Rheel were engaged in the heat of battle, their movements swift and their attacks powerful as their blades hit against each other with loud, metallic clangs. But despite the two combatants both possessing great skills, the battle was slightly tiled in Rheel's favor since he, unlike Datz, was free to use both hands and didn't have to worry about letting go of the clock, as seen by how the disguised officer was able to push Datz back into the Bazaar with his offensive prowess. However, there was one thing about Datz that made him a great combatant, no matter how rough the situation got: he wasn't afraid to fight dirty.

As the two warriors' blades were locked, Datz noticed a warbaa'd sitting peacefully on a perch in front of one of the stalls and hit his elbow against the wooden structure, causing the majestic beard to let out a loud 'roar' in self-defense, distracting Rheel for a brief second. However, despite its brevity, this small window of time was enough for Datz to ram his shoulder into his opponent, causing Rheel to drop his dagger as he flew back into a nearby stall.

"I'll take that." Datz announced as he picked up the warbaa'd dagger, holding it in the same hand as his kukri. "Can't let this sword harm any more rebels now, can we?"

The second-in-command of the Defiant Dragons, having disarmed his enemy and sending them crashing into a stall, was sure of his victory and began to make his escape. However, Datz's overconfidence made him commit one of the most common, and deadliest, mistakes a combatant can make: turning their back on an opponent who's been yet to be confirmed as unconscious, restrained, or dead- a mistake that quickly showed itself in Rheel rushing over to Datz and tackling him to the ground.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Inmee household, Tahrust and Maya were engaged in a friendly game of Kachu'demahl at the kitchen table when Beh'leeb brought them a plate of homemade magatah'men.

"Are either of you hungry?" Beh'leeb asked as she placed the plate on the table.

"You know it, Mrs. Inmee!" Maya chirped as she wasted no time in stuffing a magatah'man in her mouth and was grabbing for two more.

"Thank you, Beh'leeb. I cannot voice the wonderful job you do at taking care of us… perhaps a little too well." Tahrust grinned at the sight of Maya enthusiastically shoving magatah'man after magatah'man into her mouth as if they were her last meal.

"Think nothing of it, dear. You, Maya, and Puhray are my family, and I will not sit idly by when I can make your days better."

"Such a wonderful outlook on life, dear Beh'leeb; one that brings a smile to Her Holiness' face!" Tahrust jovially bellowed before a worried look spread across his face. "But speaking of Puhray, have you seen him? It's not like him to miss a rousing game of Kachu'demahl."

"Yes, when you were using the restroom, Puhray burst forth from his room and, in the most urgent tone, told me of how he had important business to take care of, running out of the house before I could even ask where he was going." Beh'leeb sighed as she gazed down towards the ground with a worried look in her eyes. "I do so hope that he will be alright, what with all the civil unrest caused by the rebels and secret police alike. After all, Puhray is such a sweet man who would never so much as harm a fly…"

Meanwhile, Rheel had Datz's back pinned to the ground, his knees pressed against his shoulders, as he repeatedly punched the rebel in face before reclaiming his dagger.

"Yes, Puhray is a soul most kind and with not the faintest inclination of hostility, but you must remember, dear Beh'leeb…" Tahrust closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. "the Holy Mother is watching over Puhray, and She would never allow harm to come to one whose only desire is to bring others closer to Her."

As the Head Priest was saying this, Rheel was trying to stab Datz in the throat as the rebel held back his foe's dagger-wielding arm with his free one.

"You're right, darling. The Holy Mother will ensure that Puhray is treated with nothing but the utmost kindness and respect by all those who he comes across.

At that moment, Datz mustered his energy and delivered a powerful kick to Rheel's stomach, sending the disguised officer flying off of him and landing with a thud on his back a foot or so away.

"More Magatah'men, please!" Maya chirped, flashing Beh'leeb a pair of puppy dog eyes as she extended the empty plate towards her.

* * *

Not wanting to take any chances, Datz quickly got back on his feet and, with a bit of parkour expertise that he learned from the military, made his way to the rooftops of the stalls and started running. But, much to the rebel's disdain, Rheel had made his way up to the roofs as well and began chasing after him, with the two warriors jumping from roof to roof like fleas. However, all good things in life must come to an end, and rooftops were no exception to this, so with his back to a the streets of Khura'in and the embodiment of the nation's ancestral warrior charging at him, Datz had no choice but to jump down onto a yak-drawn cart that was passing by, with Rheel following suit. Upon hearing the commotion occurring in the back of his cart, the driver turned around to see what was going on, only to accidentally get an elbow to the face from Datz, sending him tumbling out of the cart as his noble beasts of burden continued onward.

Thus, their final arena was established- a small, confined cart with little legroom, forcing the two combatants to rely on their skills with the blade as the yaks became spooked with each loud clang, prompting them to run down the road faster and faster as the fight progressed. And while Datz could have easily jumped out of the cart at any time, he knew that if he did, his foe would simply do the same, thus compelling the rebel to try to take advantage of his formidable strength to overpower his more-agile opponent and end the fight right then and there. So that's exactly what Datz did, clashing blades with this mysterious fighter as the cart ascended up a narrow path into the mountain range near Mt. Poniponi.

Meanwhile, Free'aka, who had been braving the rugged landscape, finally made his way up to the top of the small mountain that he was assigned to and prepped the RPG that he was carrying, loading it and taking aim through a crosshair down at the fighting occurring near the Bazaar.

"O-Ok, Free'aka, you can do this! You've come all this way through that forest filled with snakes and tigers and mud! You just have to aim at those rebels and blow them to smithereens just like Mr. Neede instructed. Mr. Neede's a nice man, you can't let him down, Free'aka, because if you do, he'll hate you, and so will Minister Inga, and he'll make you watch that video of Her Eminence!" The high-strung officer took a deep breath as he scanned the area below for rebels. "Just calm down, Free'aka, just caaalm down… You can't find rebels unless you're calm. Gotta be cool like ice… cool like Minister Inga… cool like- Those rebels assaulting those poor officers! Oh the humanity! Why won't they stop punching them?!" Free'aka bemoaned at the sight of his fellow officers' distress. "Well, they won't be punching for long in three…" The officer steeled his gaze. "Two…" Free'aka licked his lips as he tried to keep calm. "One…" The anxious officer's shaky finger hovered over the weapon's trigger.

However, right when Free'aka was right about to fire, a butterfly flew in front of his crosshairs, the weapon's magnified lens working against him as his vision was greeted to a sea of vibrant purple for a brief moment, prompting him to scream and jerking to the side as he inadvertently fired his weapon towards the road below.

Though despite the direction of fire being severely off, the grenade did manage to interact with a rebel as it hit the cart that Datz and Rheel were fighting in, exploding and sending the two combatants tumbling down a nearby cliff into the forest below.

Fortunately for Rheel, he was able to use his dagger to his advantage by stabbing it into the cliff he was sliding down, allowing him to come to a stop as he hung from her weapon on the wall of rock while seeing Datz use a few small, black parachutes with the Defiant Dragon logos on them from his satchels to glide safely towards the forest below.

Not willing to let Datz escape with the clock he was sent to retrieve, Rheel pushed off the cliff with his legs and pounced forth in an attempt to take down the high-ranking rebel- a strategy the proved successful as Datz's parachutes snapped from the additional weight, sending both men falling into the forest.

Thanks to the protective armor that he wore under his Lady Kee'ra robes, coupled with the fact that he had Datz to cushion his fall, Rheel was pretty much unscathed while the rebel beneath him struggled to remain conscious. Though right as Rheel was about the claim the clock- which had surprisingly survived the fall with nary a scratch- and complete his mission, Datz used the last of his energy to toss the coveted item over to a Defiant Dragon who was hiding in the forest, who, upon catching it ran off into the woods, before passing out.

Rheel could have chased after the rebel, but he knew better. Thanks to his training as both a monk and an assassin, he knew that once someone ran off into a forest like this, finding them was nigh impossible thanks to the thick brush, multitude of trees, and plethora of caves that were connected in a network of sorts. Plus, to chase after that rebel would mean not arresting Datz, the second-highest ranking member of the defiant dragons. So, despite going against his original mission, Rheel decided to stay with Datz, restraining the rebel's arms and legs with some rope that he kept on his person before calling Inga up on his cellphone.

"So, you get the clock?" Inga sternly asked with a hint of hope in his voice.

"No, My Minister, the rebels escaped with it into the woods, but I did not come out of this conflict without a reward, for I have apprehended Are'bal. I know that this does not excuse my failure, and I vow to track down that clock without rest while continuing with my new rebel-hunting duties."

Inga sighed. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Neh'mu. Sure, I'm a bit disappointed that you didn't get the clock, but with Are'bal in our custody, we'll sweat its location out of him with some good old fashion interrogation."

"But out of curiosity, how do you plan on doing that, My Minister? Obviously, such a hardened rebel, especially one as dense as Are'bal, isn't going to crack very easily."

"Trust me, Neh'mu, I don't give a damn how much those rebel mooks preach 'a dragon never yields', a round or two of watching Ga'ran dancing around in a negligée is enough to break any man's will… especially when the pudding cups come into play." Inga smirked. "So bring Are'bal over to the station so we can get his trip to Royal Penitentiary Number Four squared away."

"Yes, My Minister." Rheel replied as he ended the call.

Inga then proceeded to pick up the walkie-talkie for Group A and called Reesig.

"Neede, what's your situation?"

"Better, Minister… I don't know what got into them, but the rebels all of a sudden decided to retreat from the area like a bunch of rats fleeing a sinking ship. Sure, we're a bit banged up, but we'll survive."

"Good. Now, I'm gonna need you guys to do a special mission for me, one that involves paying a certain foreign prosecutor a little visit…" Inga stated with a sinister grin.

* * *

Later in Gaspen Payne's surprisingly plain-looking office, the Chief Prosecutor was filling out some paperwork when suddenly Reesig and two other officers entered the room.

"Well, hello there, officers." Gaspen smirked as he tapped on his toupee. "How can I help… Why are you staring at me like that?" The sleazy prosecutor nervously asked, a few drops of cold sweat starting to trickle down his brow. "And why are you closing the door?"

"Don't worry, Payne. Minister Inga just sent us here to discuss your new position..." Reesig sneered as he took out a rope.

"Then why do you have a rope with- NOOOOOO!" Gaspen screamed in a shrill tone as the officers accompanying Reesig tackled him to the floor.

"Objection!" The Chief Prosecutor shrieked as he struggled under the two officers. "This is no way to treat your chief prosecutor! I am a highly revered man in both this country and my form-"

Gaspen was cut off by Reesig knocking the pathetic slime ball out with a swift blow to the head.

"Thank the Holy Mother, I've been wanting to do that ever since Minister Inga brought on that looser." Reesig sighed as he focused his attention to the other officers. "All right, boys, Let's get the Incredible Payne back to Minister Inga for his 'makeover'."

* * *

Later that evening, Inga stood by Rayfa's bed as he tucked her in nice and tight for the night, lightly brushing the back of his hand against her cheek as she slightly wriggled under the covers to get comfortable.

"Once again, sorry I couldn't get you your clock, Rayfa." Inga sighed with a look of disappointment.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Father. I love the temporary clock that you've made for me! It perfectly captures the spirit of the Plumed Punisher!" Rayfa chirped as she stared at her new 'clock' in the corner of the room, which consisted of Gaspen wearing a Lady Kee'ra robe and a special pair of gloves that had an illuminated digital clock attached to them, along with a brace underneath of his garments that kept he arms extended outwards. All the while, the Rookie Humiliator's feet were incased in a large block of concrete, preventing the sniveling coward from fleeing his new job as sentient clock.

"Glad you like it, Rayfa. I made it with love." Inga smirked as he gazed upon his handiwork, which was trembling at the arms.

"I'm sorry about that acquittal yesterday, sir! I learned my lesson and it'll never happen again! So can I please go home?" Gaspen whimpered.

"You're darn right it won't happen again, 'cause you've been officially relieved of your duties as chief prosecutor. But look on the bright side, you've gotta brand-new career helping out Rayfa. Speaking of which, it's officially ten o'clock, so you know what that means…" Inga smirked as he looked down at his watch.

"Please, Minister Inga, I don't want to…" Gaspen pathetically groaned.

"Sing, darn you!" Inga snarled as he took out a remote control from his pocket and pushed the big, red button in the middle of it, delivering a painful electrical shock to the former Chief Prosecutor, prompting him to sing the _Plumed Punisher_ theme song in a series of sobs.

"That's more like it." Inga smirked as he chomped down on his cigar stamp. "Ok, Rayfa, if the clock doesn't sing for you on an hourly basis, or any time you're in the mood for some _Plumed Punisher_ fun, just press this button." The Minister of Justice stated as he handed his daughter the remote control.

"I shall remember that, Father. I wish you a good night's sleep." Rayfa cheerfully replied.

"You too, Rayfa. Sweet dreams." Inga stated, kissing his daughter's forehead before turning out the lights and exiting the room.

"Time to lull myself to sleep with the _Plumed Punisher_ theme song." Rayfa stated as she used the remote control, delivering another painful shock to Gaspen.

"Your Benevolence, please show mercy!" Gaspen pleaded. "I am but a humble servant of the Holy Mother who just wants to go home and get some sleep!"

"You dare defy me, o irreverent clock? I am the princess and royal priestess of this glorious nation, so if I desire that you sing, that is what you shall do!" Rayfa angrily proclaimed as she glared daggers at her new clock before delivering another painful shock to the Incredible Payne.

"You can't do this to me, Your Benevolence! I am a human being!"

"Sing for me, Clock!"

"Objectioooooooooon!" Gaspen shrieked as Rayfa delivered yet another agonizing electrical shock to the Rookie Humiliator.


	11. Kidnapper and Me

**A/N:** I would like to apologize for the lack of activity on this story since the last chapter was uploaded in September. Thank you all for your patience, and I hope that this new chapter was worth the wait!

* * *

Amara's Tomb was one of Khura'in's most sacred monuments, built in honor of the 'deceased' Queen Amara. As such, it would only make sense that it was built on the palace grounds and guarded by some of the finest police officers the kingdom had to offer, with entry practically barred to all citizens- even the members of the royal family, who were only allowed to disrupt the peaceful eternal slumber of their 'fallen' queen on high holidays.

But Inga wasn't like most people; for unlike most Khura'inese citizens who were observant to a fault when it came to the nation's laws and scriptures, the Minister of Justice did what he wanted. And why shouldn't he? Inga didn't ask to be forced to marry Ga'ran when he was 19; he didn't ask for the endless paperwork that his wife made him fill out on a daily basis; and he most certainly didn't ask for Ga'ran's frequent romps of bedroom 'fun', which could be classified as sexual assault in most countries. So Inga felt that it was his Holy Mother-given right to take advantage of the only good things to come out of marrying into the royal family that had screwed him over, both literally and figuratively, for 27 years: being able to use his position as minister of justice to further his own agenda- having his officers run errands for him, serve as his bodyguards, and give him access to Amara's tomb without anyone being none the wiser.

So when Inga entered the tomb where his sister-in-law was supposedly residing, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of the structure helping him out by giving him a place to hold his new hostage: the uppity spirit medium who helped make all hell break loose at that nightmare trial for the murders of Tahrust and Neh'mu, Maya Fey, who was tied to a chair with a burlap sack placed over her head, wriggling and squirming in a fruitless attempt to free herself.

"Try as much as you want, topknot. You're never breaking out of those ropes, see?" Inga sneered as he chomped down on his cigar stamp. "I personally tied you up myself, and trust me, I know every way under the sun to escape all kinds of knots. It's a necessary skill for survival when you live with Ga'ran and her kinky-ass roleplaying for almost 30 years."

"Who said that?" Maya nervously asked, frantically moving her head back and forth as if it would allow her to see through the burlap sack covering her eyes. "Where am I?"

"That would be me." Inga stated as he removed the sack off of the spirit medium's head, the first sight she had seen in hours being his toothy grin.

"Minister Inga!" Maya gasped.

"In the flesh. And to answer your other question, you're in Amara's tomb, the resting place of Her Mercifulness, Queen Amara, and where I go to hide from Ga'ran after she watches _Moulin Rouge_ and gets all horney." Inga said with a shudder. "Think of it like my version of Superman's Fortress of Solitude, only instead of all kinds of superhero stuff, there's a coffin and mosaics depicting Amara's life."

"But why am I here? And why am I tied to a chair?!"

"'Cause you and your lawyer friend have gone and pissed me off, see!" Inga growled as he bit down on his cigar stamp. "In the course of one day, you two managed to slander the DC Act, helped promote those damn Dragons, and worst of all, you upstaged my daughter!"

"We weren't trying to do any of that! We just wanted to find the truth!"

"You think you're so high-and-mighty, don't you? Waltzing in and throwing a fit over the littlest of things just 'cause Holy Mother forbid you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. Well let me tell you something, girlie, this ain't your Manhattan, we don't have a thousand hotdog stands and guys in tights prancing around on stage singing show tunes!"

"But… I grew up near Los Angeles." Maya awkwardly chimed in.

"I don't care where you grew up, see? You wronged me and Rayfa, so you and your uppity friend are gonna make things right by doing me a little favor."

"What favors do you expect me to do? Because in case you haven't noticed, I'm tied to a chair!" Maya snapped.

"Well, you're what we in the kidnapping business like to call 'leverage'. Gotta make sure White doesn't try any funny business while he's running an errand for me in the States, see?"

"Why do you need Nick? You're way richer and more powerful than he is, so wouldn't it be easier for you to do it?"

"Ain't you just a bag full of questions? But since it's either this or talk to my wife, I'll play along. You see, thanks to White revealing to the whole kingdom that the Founder's Orb is missing, I have to get it back from my guy in the L.A. and move on ahead with my plans before people here start sticking their nose where it doesn't belong. So since the discreet mailing system that I used to get the orb to the States would take too long, I've gotta settle on sending someone out to fetch it for me. And who better than an American that has no connections whatsoever in Khura'in?"

"You're behind the Founder's Orb getting stolen?!" Maya gasped. "I thought it was that monk guy!"

"Andistan'dhin was just a cog in the machine of my grand plan! Got him to fall in line through some good old-fashioned extortion, just like I did with White." Inga smirked.

"But why would you send the orb halfway around the world? Wouldn't it be more useful to you if you had it here?" The spirit medium asked with a confused look on her face.

"That's for me to know, and the lot of you to find out. Now if-" At that moment, Inga was interrupted by his cellphone ringing, playing an eight-bit version of the _Jaws_ theme. "Dammit, Ga'ran..! Sorry, I gotta take this." The Minister of Justice groaned as he answered his phone. "Whaddya want, Ga'ran…?"

"Inga, where are you?" The Queen irritably asked.

"I'm at work. Why?"

"I need you back to the palace this instant so that we may eat dinner together as a family."

"Eat as a family? But us eating our meals in separate rooms is what's keeping our marriage alive!" Inga whined.

"Well, I can't speak for our eating arrangements, but I'm certain that your performance in the bedroom isn't doing anyone any favors." Ga'ran sneered. "And while I don't like this any more than you do, we have to show the people that the royal family encourages unity and togetherness to help counteract the negative publicity created by your horrible bombshell plan to kill and/or arrest rebels by having a member of the secret police pose as Lady Kee'ra."

"Hey, you weren't complaining about it a few days ago when it was getting the job done."

"Yes, but that was before I had every nun, monk, and priest in Khura'in ranting and raving about how ignorant and blasphemous my husband is, sprinkling in insults about your mother and the size of your genitals. Sure, those remarks about your… underwhelming size may be accurate, but it makes me look bad by comparison!"

"Trust me, Ga'ran, you do a pretty good job of that on your own."

"Don't be ridiculous, Inga! I am a prize!" The Queen smugly replied.

"Yeah, one of those horrible joke prizes that they put in mystery boxes on gameshows."

"I'm serious, Inga. I have a sharp mind, a good sense of humor, a caring personality, and quite an attractive figure. With all those features, coupled with my regal position, I could have any man I want if I wasn't with you. In fact, just last month, a Cohdopian ambassador told me that I was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen and that my husband was a very lucky man."

"That's because he's not married to you. You're like one of those frog fishes that hides in the sand, looking all inconspicuous, see? Sure, you're not all that threatening at a distance, but the second a man gets close to you… BAM! You jump up and get 'em before they can run away!"

"Look Inga, just get back to the palace as soon as you can while I have the servants set your place between me and Nayna."

"Not Nayna!" Inga whined, stomping his foot like a child in protest. "It takes all of my willpower just to tolerate you, but Nayna's a whole 'nother story. You two play-off of each other's wisecracks and gang up on me!"

"Well, we can't get everything that we want now, can we? For example, I wanted a husband with a backbone and kielbasa below the belt, but all I got was a spineless jellyfish with a cocktail weenie." Ga'ran sneered. "Yet do you see me complaining? No. Because unlike you, Inga, I take advantage of what life throws at me. So either get down to the banquet hall in the next ten minutes or I will give you a night of passion so vigorous and heated that it will turn your cocktail weenie into licorice stick. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Ga'ran…" Inga groaned, ending the call before returning his cellphone to his pocket and directing his attention to Maya. "That was the wife. Gotta go eat dinner with her as punishment for the results of that last trial."

"But what about me?" Maya whimpered. "I'm haven't eaten in hours and I'm _sooo_ hungry!"

"I can't have you dying off before I get the Founder's Orb, so I'll feed you when I get back from diner. But because I don't wanna run any risks…" Inga took a cloth out of his pocket and shoved it in Maya's mouth, reducing any attempts of speech from her to muffled grunts, before running out of the tomb.

* * *

About two hours later, Inga returned to the tomb with a plastic bag and the look of a man whose spirit had been smashed to bits with a sledgehammer.

"I'm back…" Inga sighed as he removed Maya's gag. "By some miracle of the Holy Mother, I somehow got through that hell of a dinner with Nayna's wisecracks, Nahyuta going on and on about how my Lady Kee'ra plan will earn me at least 5,000 years in the Hell of the DMV Waiting Room, and Ga'ran lightly stroking my inner thigh. But it wasn't all bad- Rayfa told me 'bout how she's training to channel spirits by standing under a freezing-cold waterfall. You ever do that kind of training, Ms. High-and-mighty Medium?" The Minister of Justice smirked.

"Yes, ever since I was 17. Now can I please have something to eat? I'm starving!" Maya snapped.

"Alright, alright, hold your horses. I've brought you some of my leftovers." Inga stated as he held up the plastic bag, which was filled to the brim with broccoli.

"Ew! Broccoli!" Maya shrieked, her face contorted into a look of pure disgust.

"Yeah, broccoli. Why, you got a problem with it?"

"Yes! It's gross, and smelly, and rubbery, and I hate it!" Maya objected with puffed out cheeks.

"C'mon, all the cool kids are eating it? Don't you wanna be cool?" Inga said in an enticing tone as he took out a stalk of broccoli from the bag.

"If it's so cool, why don't _you_ eat it?"

"'Cause I'm a man! Men eat manly foods like chicken and fish, not stuff that's food for food. That ain't right, see! I ain't some girly bunny! Now eat your broccoli before I get mad." Inga said in a menacing tone, leaning forward as he chomped down on his cigar stamp.

"No!" Maya huffed, her nose pointed up in derision.

"Well, too bad. I ain't gonna have my hostage starve to death just 'cause she's a picky eater! Now eat!"

"Never! I am a woman of principles, and there's nothing you can do to change my mind!"

After a brief moment of silence, Inga tried to force the stalk of the despised vegetable into Maya's mouth. But unfortunately for the Minister, his hostage, like a Defiant Dragon, wouldn't yield, keeping her mouth firmly shut like a clamp.

"Eat the broccoli! Eat it! Eat it! C'mon, eat it!" Inga roared as he continued his fruitless attempt to get the spirit medium to eat, only to receiving several angry, muffled 'mmphs' in response. "You'll eat your broccoli whether ya like it or not! Now open up your trap before I do it for ya!"

"MMMPH!" Maya huffed through firmly closed lips with a vigorous shake of her head, prompting the irate Minister of Justice to drop the plastic bag as he finally went off the deep end.

"Ok, you asked for it! Open up!" Inga demanded as he pulled on Maya's lower jaw in an attempt to force it open, which only resulted in Maya's chair falling on its back when Inga tried to put his weight into it.

But Inga wasn't about to give up. The irate Minister shifted his position so that he was kneeling right behind Maya's head, looking down on the stubborn girl like a surgeon over a patient as he continued trying to pry her mouth open. But after a few more minutes of getting absolutely nowhere, a brilliant idea popped into his head.

The Minister of Justice took his hands off of Maya's jaw, opting to pull at her long raven-colored hair, prompting the spirit medium to let out a yelp of pain, much to his satisfaction. Taking advantage of his hostage's brief moment of weakness, Inga shoved the broccoli into Maya's mouth. However, the spirit medium wasn't going down without a fight, stating this view by biting Inga's fingers, causing the Minister to scream in agony, followed by spitting out the broccoli in his face before firmly closing her mouth once more.

"AAAAARGH! Why you little…!" Inga snarled as he grabbed the plastic bag and dumped its contents out onto Maya's closed mouth, squishing the broccoli against her face until it became a gooey green paste.

As Inga was screaming in anger, Reesig Neede, who was guarding the door to the tomb, rushed in with his gun drawn to see just what the commotion was all about, believing that this much hostility could only be the result of Inga getting in a fistfight with at least three Defiant Dragons.

"Minister Inga, I heard…" The veteran officer paused upon seeing his boss on the ground with a crazed look in his eyes, screaming as he was rubbing some green goop on the hostage.

"Eat the broccoli! Everybody likes it!" Inga screamed.

"NO! NO! NOOOOOO!" Maya wailed, her voice muffled by the Minister's hand.

"Er, never mind…" Reesig awkwardly said as he slowly backed out of the tomb.

* * *

About ten minutes later, Inga had finally won. He had gotten Maya to eat the broccoli. It may had taken more time and effort than the Minister would have preferred, but he did it; and if it meant less time that he'd have to spend with Ga'ran, it was a plus.

"See, that wasn't so bad." Inga calmly stated as he returned Maya's chair to its original position.

"I hate you!" Maya wailed with tear-filled eyes.

"Like I care what _you_ think?" Inga snickered as he chomped down on his cigar stamp. "This isn't even close to the worst thing I've done, top knot. I have anyone who stands in my or the Ga'ran regime's way executed, threaten children, and both train and punish my officers by making 'em look at pictures of Ga'ran wearing lingerie."

"You're a monster!" Maya snapped as she glared daggers at the Minister of Justice. "Just like Dhurke in Episode 146 of _The Plumed Punisher_ , _Stalking the Enemy_ , when he tried to turn the Plumed Punisher into a stalk of broccoli with his Broccoli Laser!"

"You… watch _The Plumed Punisher_?" Inga asked with a look of shock.

"Watch it? I'll die if I miss an episode of _The Plumed Punisher_!" Maya chirped, her attitude undergoing a complete overhaul as her frown was replaced with a grin. "It's a really cool show with lots of fast-pace fighting and awesome flips and jumps and stuff! It reminds me a lot of this show that I watch back home, _The Steel Samurai_."

"Heh… You sound like my daughter." Inga chuckled. "Rayfa's a huge fan of that show. I can't even mention its name without her starting up a conversation about character analysis and plot arcs. And don't get me started on the merchandise… That girl's room is one big shrine to the Plumed Punisher."

"I could tell. When she and Nick came to visit me in the detention center, she got really excited when I showed them my Plumed Punisher strap. But when I brought it up, she got really defensive."

"Well, that's Rayfa for you. She may come off as tough and serious, but that's just a front for the public, see? If you got to know her, I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that you two would become best friends in no time if your good taste in t.v. shows is of any indication."

"What do you know about good television?" Maya huffed. "You're probably like Nick and only watch boring stuff like the news and educational television!"

"Well, I hope I know at least something about good television, considering that I'm the head writer and director for _The Plumbed Punisher_."

"No!" Maya gasped with saucer-sized eyes. "That's impossible!"

"If you aren't convinced, just look at the credits at the end of every episode. I know for a fact that my name is always right at the top in the first two spots." Inga boasted.

"But you're a mean, old broccoli man! How could you possibly write such fun and awesome episodes?"

"Hey, now, I'm not a mean broccoli man." Inga responded with a hint of hurt in his voice.

"You were ten minutes ago when you were shoving it in my face!" Maya yelled.

"Yeah, sorry about that…" The Minister of Justice stated as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "I know I was a bit mean…"

"Only a bit?" Maya replied with a scowl.

"Alright, a lot… But in my defense, I was only doing it because I wanted to make sure you were eating."

"If you wanted me to eat so badly, why would you give me broccoli? I'd rather eat grass and a piece of bark over that yucky weed!"

"Ok, in hindsight, maybe that wasn't the best idea I ever had. But I was working off of experience, see? Rayfa loves her vegetables, can't get enough of them. Hell, she was disappointed when I wouldn't let her have the broccoli that I was bringing you. I just figured that since you and my daughter are both young girls, you would like broccoli just as much as her."

"I can see where you're coming from, Minister Inga, but you've got to understand that I'm not you're daughter." Maya warmly stated. "Sure, we may both be young, talented, lovely women, but we're two entirely different people."

"Well, in that case, what would you like to eat tomorrow afternoon? I can't exactly feed you three square meals, considering the circumstances, but I can at least get you a decent dinner."

"Really?" Maya squealed in excitement.

"Of course! It's the least I can do after the whole broccoli incident."

"In that case, I want burgers!"

"No." Inga curtly stated.

"But you asked what I wanted, and I want burgers! So gimme burgers!" Maya whined.

"I meant something available in Khura'in, like noodles or fish. I may be a reasonable man, but international cuisine is where I draw the line, see?" Inga stated, leaning forward in order to assert his dominance.

"But I've been eating noodles every day for two years and I want burgers!"

"Well, too bad! This ain't Big Willy's or Burger Barn or wherever you Americans eat! This is Khura'in, and you're gonna eat what's served here!"

"No! Burger!" Maya pouted, glaring daggers at the Minister of Justice.

"Listen here-"

"Burger!" Maya yelled, interrupting Inga midsentence.

"Don't go interrupting me, top knot, or I'll-" Inga growled, only to be cut off again.

"Burger!"

"I-"

"Burger!"

Inga sighed in exasperation, knowing from years of raising Rayfa just how this conversation would end. "Look…"

"Burger! Burger! Burger! Burger! Burger! Burg-" Maya angrily chanted before being interrupted by the irate Minister of Justice.

"Let me finish, ya stubborn brat!" Inga roared, pointing his cigar stamp at the spirit medium as if it was a weapon. "I'll get you your freaking burgers! Happy!?"

"Yes!" Maya chirped with a nod.

"Well in that case, have a good sleep." Inga irritably stated as he stomped towards the tomb's exit with clenched fists, grumbling several profanities under his breath.

"How? I'm tied to a chair!" Maya snapped, casting Inga a scowl as he left the building.

* * *

The following evening, Inga returned to the tomb with a paper bag in tow, but unlike the one from the previous night, this one emitted a greasy, meaty smell which made Maya salivate in anticipation.

"You brought burgers! Yay!" The spirit medium cheered.

"Can't slip anything past you, can I?" Inga chuckled as he took out a burger. "Alright, open up."

"I know I'm supposed to be your hostage, but can't I at least use my hands to eat?"

"No dice. Like I said before, I know all kinds of tricks to getting untied and that one right there's the oldest one in the book. You have my untie your hands, then you knock me out with a sucker punch, and then when I'm lying on the floor with stars floating above my head like something out of a cartoon, you make your grand escape." Inga smirked, proud of his reasoning. "That's why you're gonna stay nice and tied up while I feed you your burgers, see? Now open up the tunnel, 'cause here comes the train. Choo! Choo!" The Minister of Justice stated, slowly bringing the burger closer to his hostage's mouth.

"If it gets me my burgers…" Maya sighed before taking a bite out of her dinner.

"See, this ain't so bad."

"I guess… But if you even _think_ about putting a bib on me, I'm head-butting you!" The spirit medium angrily threatened.

"Duly noted." Inga stated before allowing Maya to take another bite of her burger.

A few minutes later, after the spirit medium had devoured the burgers that the Minister had brought her in record time, he crumpled up the empty paper bag and put it in his pocket.

"You all filled up?"

"I couldn't eat another bite!" Maya chirped with a satisfied grin on her face.

"Good to hear. Now, I remember how much you were raving about _The Plumed Punisher_ last night, so since I know you'll probably start whining about it like you did with the burgers, I decided to beat you to the punch. Bring it in, boys!" The Minister of Justice yelled, prompting an officer to bring in a portable television, which was placed on a wooden table in the corner of the room, followed by two more men lugging in a portable generator and a VCR which were quickly hooked up to t.v. And once everything was set up, the three officers left the room without saying a word.

"A t.v?" Maya asked with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"That's right." Inga stated as he turned his hostage's chair so she could better see the television. "I figured that since Rayfa's out training for the whole day, maybe you could watch some Plumed Punisher with me. That sound good to you?"

"Wow, you're so much nicer than the last person who held me hostage!" Maya jovially stated. "That guy would barely give me eye contact, let alone a t.v.!"

"What can I say? I'm nice like that." Inga smirked as he turned on the television, displaying the intro sequence of The Plumed Punisher as the theme song played, before taking the chair that was at the table and placing it next to Maya's so that he could sit with his hostage.

As Inga and Maya watched the episode in which Dhurke and his goons tried to literally squish the palace with his gigantic Destructo Tank, with the perky spirit medium laughing and watching the show with childlike excitement, the Minister had other thoughts swimming around in his head. Inga was actually starting to develop feelings for this girl, not anything romantic- he learned that nothing good came from that minefield after practically three decades of living with Ga'ran- but the kind that a father feels for his daughter

Sure, Inga may had just had this girl nabbed off the streets just the other day, but she was growing on him. She reminded him of a younger version of Rayfa with her silky, dark hair, the excitement in her voice when speaking of _The Plumed Punisher_ , and her cute giggle when she found a joke funny. But then again, it shouldn't be too much of a surprise considering that with her spiritual powers, she and Rayfa could very well be cousins- distant cousins, but related nonetheless.

But on the other hand, this was the woman who managed to shake Rayfa's already-volatile self-esteem by being able to channel spirits without any effort while his daughter couldn't after years of training and studying. Could he be nice to this girl knowing that she was friends with the man who had been destroying the regime that he had worked so hard to create? Could he show his young hostage fatherly affection without betraying Rayfa?

These were questions that Inga couldn't bring himself to answer, so when he finally left the tomb after watching two more _Plumed Punisher_ episodes with Maya, the Minister did so without saying a word or making eye contact, merely choosing to ruffle the spirit medium's hair with an indifferent hand.

* * *

"Are we gonna watch more _Plumed Punisher_ , Minister Inga?" Maya excitedly asked after finishing her hamburgers the next day.

"Sorry, top knot, I ain't got a lot of time to spend with you today, see? I've gotta meet with Ga'ran in about ten minutes to go over my strategies on trying to take down Dhurke and his goons for the next month. And while I really don't wanna do it- and trust me, I don't- it's how I get my funding."

"Oh… I understand." Maya sighed with a disappointed look on her face.

"Aw, don't go all sad and mushy on me." Inga irritably stated, trying to maintain his guise as the steadfast captor. "We may not have time to watch any episodes of _The_ _Plumed Punisher_ , but I've got something that should be just as good." The Minister of Justice said as he pulled out a video tape out of his coat.

"A video tape?" Maya said with a look of shock, surprised that those kinds of tapes still existed.

"Ah, but this isn't just any old video tape, see? After the Defiant Dragons formed in 05 and Ga'ran became queen, my first job as minister of justice was to create a PSA telling people to call the Ministry of Justice with any news on rebel activities. However, since both Ga'ran and I were still new to our jobs, I didn't have access to the funding I needed to make something legitimate like _The Plumed Punisher_ , so I had to improvise. But if you liked my work with that show, then you'll get a kick outta this." Inga smirked as he put the tape in the VCR and turned on the t.v.

The tape showed a much younger version of Inga- dressed in Dhurke's lawyer outfit and with his hair slicked back- running through the palace garden towards Ga'ran- whose appearance and attire was the same then as it was currently, with the exception of her not wearing her usual crown, instead opting to have her long black hair styled as it was when she was a prosecutor- as the _Ghost Busters_ theme song started playing in the background, with Inga singing his own lyrics.

 _If Dhurke's on the move,_

 _Throwing rocks at the Queen,_

 _Who ya gonna call?_

"INGA!" Ga'ran roared, flashing the Minister a death glare after he threw a rock at the side of her head.

 _If there's a darn rebel,_

 _Plotting near the temple,_

 _Who ya gonna call?_

"INGA!" Ga'ran yelled as the video showed her glaring face once more.

While there was a break in the lyrics, the video showed Inga, in his brown suit, running up and down the stairway leading to Tehm'pul Temple

 _I ain't afraid of no rebels._

The video then cut to the Minister trying, and failing, to do a pushup.

 _I ain't afraid of no rebels._

After another transition, Inga was shown shimmying from side-to-side in his private quarters, which were much tidier back then, before cutting to him, in his Dhurke costume, peeking out from behind some bushes at nighttime.

 _If you see Dragons,_

 _Watching you from the shadows,_

 _Who ya gonna call?_

"INGA!"

The next cut showed Inga, still dressed as Dhurke, lying in bed with Ga'ran, crying as he cuddled with his wife.

 _An unyielding Dragon,_

 _Touching your wife in bed,_

 _Who ya gonna call?_

"INGA!"

The next scene showed the Minister, in his regular attire, doing leg lifts in his private quarters.

 _I ain't afraid of no rebels._

The tape then cut to Inga doing jumping jacks.

 _I ain't afraid of no rebels._

After showing another scene of Inga dancing, this time gyrating his hips, the tape transitioned to him standing in the street surrounded by several of his officers who were dressed in casual clothes, posing menacingly with Defiant Dragon armbands on their biceps.

 _Who ya gonna call?_

"INGA!"

 _If you're in the streets,_

 _Surrounded by Dhurke's goons,_

 _You definitely wanna call…_

"INGA!"

The next scene showed the Minister, once more in his regular attire, sitting in his private quarters, playing a catchy riff on a lavender kiddy piano that was left behind after Dhurke took Nahyuta from the palace.

 _I ain't afraid of no rebels._

Inga repeated the riff on his piano.

 _I'll defeat all the Dragons._

For a third time, the riff on the kiddy piano was played.

 _I ain't afraid of no rebels._

Inga played the riff for a fourth and final time.

 _Who ya gonna call?_

"INGA!"

The next scene showed Inga, again in his Dhurke costume, running down the street with a crying toddler slung over his shoulder as the distressed parents chased after him.

 _If the Defiant Dragons,_

 _Try to take away your kid,_

 _You better call…_

"INGA!"

The video transitioned to the Minister lying on the ground in the palace garden, curled up in the fetal position, as Ga'ran proceeded to mercilessly kick him.

 _I'll tell ya something,_

 _Beatin' Dhurke feels real good!_

The next scene showed Inga, in his normal suit, struggling to do a sit-up.

 _I ain't afraid of no rebels._

The tape transitioned to Inga spinning around in his office chair.

 _I ain't afraid of no rebels._

The video cut to Inga trying in vain to open a pickle jar before showing a scene with Ga'ran hitting him, while wearing his Dhurke outfit, in the face with the same rock that he attacked her with.

 _Don't let them beat you up,_

 _Oh, no!_

"INGA!"

The tape transitioned to a scene where Inga, still dressed as Dhurke, kicked open the door of a random home, much to the shock of the elderly couple inside who were trying to enjoy some tea.

 _When Dhurke break down your door,_

 _And unless you're a dirty traitor,_

 _You better go and call,_

"INGA!"

The video to Inga, wearing his normal suit, doing the robot in his private quarters.

 _Who ya gonna call?_

"INGA!"

 _Who ya gonna call?_

"INGA!"

 _You better well darn call,_

"INGA!"

 _Who you gonna call?_

"INGA!"

 _Once more, who ya gonna call?_

"INGA!"

 _Louder!_

"INGA, YOU GET BACK HERE AND TAKE IT LIKE A MAN!" Ga'ran roared as the video cut to her chasing Inga, in his Dhurke outfit, around the palace garden while trying to hit him with the paddle that she frequently used when prosecuting.

 _Who ya gonna call?_

"INGA!"

 _Who can you trust?_

"INGA!"

 _Who ya gonna call?_

"INGA, GET OUT OF THAT TREE THIS INSTANT!" Ga'ran yelled as the tape transitioned to her glaring up at her husband who was sitting up in a tree in the palace garden, cowering and clinging to a branch for dear life, before throwing her paddle up at him and knocking him down to the ground with a well-aimed hit to the jaw. But right as Ga'ran approached the downed Minister with a sinister sneer on her face, the video ended, leaving just a screen full of static.

"Alright, that's the video." Inga stated as he turned off the television. "So, what did you think?"

"You were right! It was _sooo_ funny- especially the part with you playing that kiddy piano!" Maya giggled.

"Well, ya gotta make do with what you've got. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a meeting to endure." Inga groaned as he walked towards the tomb's exit.

"Alright. Thanks for playing that video for me, Minister Inga! It was really fun!" Maya jovially proclaimed.

"Don't mention it, top knot. Really, don't." Inga stated as he left the building and made his way to the palace.

* * *

The next day when Inga entered the tomb, he was visibly outraged, his nostrils flaring and brow furrowed, as he squeezed the life out of his cellphone while talking to his 'associate'.

"What do you mean you've got virtually nothing, Atishon?!" Inga roared. "I gave you that orb months ago!"

"I understand your grievances, Minister Inga, but these things take time. I can't just barge into Dr. Buff's house and demand progress on the orb. That would be rude, and rudeness does not win the hearts of the voters! A vote for Paul Atishon is a vote for courtesy!" The sleazy politician bellowed.

"Listen, Atishon…!" Inga hissed. "This is my rise to political power we're talking about, not a debate at City Hall! Every second I'm not getting some kinda juice on that orb is another second I risk being caught and executed! So unless you don't want my financial backing anymore, you're gonna up the research speed, see?!"

"R-Right away, Minister Inga! Whatever you say!" Atishon nervously responded.

"One of our few planes finally returned, so White should be arriving help you get the orb sometime tomorrow. For your sake, he better be returning to me with plenty of findings, see?" Inga snarled before ending the call and taking a seat next to Maya. "I swear, you can't find good help these days…"

"Something wrong?" Maya asked with a look of concern.

"You remember when I told you that I'm having White help me get back the Founder's Orb?"

"How could I forget? It's the reason why I've been tied to a chair!" Maya snapped.

"Ok, ok, I get it- ya don't like the chair. But I can't risk you escaping. So you're just gonna have to grin and bear it until your friend gets back on either the 17th or 18th."

"You try saying that after using your pants as a bathroom for three day! I'm starting to chap!" Maya whined as she wriggled in her chair.

"Ok, let's change the conversation…" Inga said with a look of disgust in his face, scooting his chair a little bit away from the soiled spirit medium.

"In that case, why are you doing this?"

"Whaddya mean?" Inga asked with a confused look.

"I'm talking about goin through all the effort of stealing the Founder's Orb, sending out of the country, and kidnapping me. I mean, I know the legend of the orb possessing amazing spiritual power, but what would a guy like you need with it? You're the minister of justice, you practically run the country."

"Yeah, I wanna unlock the orb's power, but not for me… It's for Rayfa." Inga sighed as he lowered his head.

"Rayfa?"

"Did I stutter?" Inga sullenly asked.

"No, it's just that I never pictured Rayfa as the power-hungry type."

"You're right. Rayfa was never the domineering sort- one of the reasons why I love her so much. It's just Rayfa has spent her entire life training day and night to master her spiritual powers, yet no matter how much she tries, she can barely get past the Divination Séance. And since she's the only heir to the throne, she… She, well… She…"

"Feels like she's a failure?"

"Yeah, you took the words right outta my mouth."

"Well, I should know. That's most of my life in a nutshell." Maya sighed, her eyes filled with sorrow as she lowered her head.

"Was it now…?" Inga asked with a hint of hurt in his voice.

"I may not be royalty, but I'm next in line to rule my village. In fact, I came to this country to complete my training. You see, my village, Kurain- pronounced the same way as your country's name- has always been led by the most powerful spirit medium that is the daughter of the previous leader. So since my mother disappeared from the village after a scandal, followed by my older sister leaving a few years later, I was left as the next person to inherit the position. And if that wasn't bad enough, my only parental figure, my powerless aunt who was jealous of my mom, would constantly belittle me whenever I wasn't learning skills fast enough and even tried to have me arrested, and later killed, so that my younger cousin could take the role."

"Well, that aunt of yours and Ga'ran would get along nicely sine she's the exact same way with Rayfa, minus the killing and arresting parts. That's why I wanna give Rayfa all that spiritual power so badly. Not only would she be able to show Ga'ran just how skilled she is, but she could also overthrow my wife and rule the country with me by her side."

"So you want Rayfa to get rid of Ga'ran so you could have more power?"

"That's a perk to my plan, like the mint they put on your pillow when you rent a fancy hotel room, see? I may hate Ga'ran and loathe every minute she has more power over me, but I love my daughter much more and wouldn't do anything to cause her unnecessary pain. I just can't stand the thought of Ga'ran belittling Rayfa any longer. It's one thing when my wife gets after me, but when she starts bullying my sweet little girl whose only crime is trying her best, I draw the line!" Inga roared as he slammed his fist on the arm of his chair. "You probably can't get where I'm coming from since you're so young, but when you have a kid, you want to protect them and make 'em as happy as can be, no matter what."

"I know what you mean. After my aunt's plan to have me arrested backfired and she was taken into custody instead, my cousin was left all alone and I had to raise her. It wasn't like I was saddled with her, mind you; I _wanted_ to take her in. Pearly was just a sweet little eight-year-old girl. She didn't deserve to suffer just because her mom was a cruel vindictive woman. So for the past decade, I've been raising her like a daughter- feeding her, protecting her from harm, answering all of her questions…"

"Well, you've certainly lived a full life." Inga stated with an impressed look.

"I know… But I didn't expect you to be so caring. I mean, you're… well, you."

"Surprise, surprise, the stone-cold Minister of Justice has a heart." Inga sneered. "Sure, I may come off as a bit of a ramrod, but that's just to establish my authority over the people and strike fear into my enemies. You think that Dhurke and his defiant goons would respect a man who watches television with his daughter and hugs her when she's scared?"

"I guess you're right…" Maya stated.

After a brief awkward pause in which both parties had exhausted all of their talking points, Inga got up from his seat and decided to break the silence.

"Say, you mind not telling anyone 'bout this when I let you go later? It would mean a lot to me if I could keep my reputation intact, see?"

"No problem!" Maya chirped. "But if it means so much to you, why don't you repay me with a change of pants?"

"Ok, I'll allow it, but under my conditions. Your arms are gonna remain tied together and I'll be personally changing your pants. Don't worry, I won't be creepy and fondle you. I have a daughter; I know how to act when changing a young woman's clothes. Got it?"

"Well, beggars can't be choosers…" Maya reluctantly stated. Sure, she didn't feel comfortable letting some strange man change her pants, but it was better than literally sitting in her own filth.

"Good. We'll do it when I return tomorrow." Inga stated before leaving the tomb for the night.

* * *

When Inga woke up early the next morning to give Maya the change of pants he had promised her, he didn't expect to find himself running out of Amara's Tomb like a scared little girl and locking the door shut behind him. But then again, the Minister of Justice also didn't expect to find Dhurke in there trying to free his hostage. And to make matters worse, the superhuman rebel survived getting shot in the chest three times. Sure, it was one thing to take a bullet, but to get hit by three and barely flinch… Inga would often joke that Dhurke was some evil demon sent to make his life more unbearable than it already was, but what had transpired in that tomb only served to confirm that theory, filling Inga with great fear as he pressed his back against the large wooden doors and started panting.

"Holy Mother, what the hell is with that guy?! First he knocked out two of my best-trained officers and had 'em hauled off to who-knows-where, and now taking those bullets like he's Superman…!? I'm probably better off just keeping those doors locked and burning down the place with Dhurke and the girl inside- claim it as an act of the Holy Mother. They'd believe that, right? Dhurke's a criminal, an enemy of the royal family, the people will understand… No!" Inga growled, his fists clenched as his posture became proud and tall, a steely look of determination forming in his eyes. "Despite what Ga'ran and Amara say, I am a man! And as a man, I'm gonna march in there and kick Dhurke's ass for all the crap I've had to suffer through because of him while calling him Ga'ran as I do it! Well look out, Dhurke, 'cause here I come!"

After unlocking the doors, Inga pushed them open with gusto, his chest puffed out as he march into the tomb as the doors closed behind him with a loud thud. But the Minister of Justice's zeal didn't last long as he found Dhurke's dead body lying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood.

"Well, looks like ya yielded after all, eh Dhurke?" Inga smirked as he gave his nemesis' corpse a good kick just to make sure he wasn't just pretending. "See that, top knot, that's what happens when you mess with…" Inga stopped midsentence when he noticed that the ropes to Maya's chair were broken and that the medium was nowhere to be found. "No… Please don't tell me that Dhurke… She…" Inga gulped as he saw the curtain surrounding Amara's sarcophagus shake. "Top Knot, is that you?" The Minister nervously asked.

No reply was heard, prompting Inga to take a few steps towards the sarcophagus.

"Look kid, if that's you, say something. The silence is kinda creeping me out, see?" Inga stated, trying his best to maintain a confident composure despite his knees shaking like gelatin.

Once again, there was silence, prompting Inga to once again creep towards the sarcophagus as the curtain started to violently shake.

"Top Knot…?" Inga whimpered, pointing his cigar stamp at the rustling curtain as if it would repel any attackers. But unfortunately for the Minister of Justice, his fears were confirmed when Dhurke- dressed in the outfit that Inga had brought for Maya and had abandoned during his tactical retreat, which looked quite tight on him- jumped out from behind the curtain with lightning-fast speed and delivered a powerful punch to his jaw, rendering Inga unconscious before he could grasp the situation as the back of his head slammed against the hard stone floor.

"Never underestimate a dragon, Inga." Dhurke sternly stated, glaring down at Inga's unconscious body before reaching into the shirt pocket of his own corpse and taking out a small walkie-talkie and calling Datz. "Datz, you there?"

"You rescue the girl?" The gluttonous rebel excitedly whispered.

"Yes, and no…" Dhurke hesitantly stated as he rubbed his chin in contemplation. "The point is that she's safe and we're moving onto the next part of the plan: getting to that Kurain Village place and retrieving the Founder's Orb before Inga's goon can. Are you at the rendezvous point?"

"You bet I am! As we speak, I'm hiding in a crate near that new private plane Inga recently purchased. They're still doing a few checks on it, but they should be gone in about an hour or so."

"Good to hear! That should give me some time to change into some new clothes."

"Do I even have to ask?" Datz snickered, trying his best to conceal his presence.

"No, just maintain your position until a chance to hijack the plane presents itself. Remember, if you complete your part of the mission before I arrive, stand your ground until I get there, understand?"

"Don't worry, Dhurke. I'll hold down that plane like I would a meal." Datz smirked. "But with our plans for the early morning _Plumed Punisher_ special, I think a stolen plane will be the least of the police's problems."

"Alright, I'll see you there." The rebel leader stated as he put the walkie-talkie back in his shirt pocket. "But before I go…" Dhurke stated as he rustled through Inga's coat pocket and stole the key to the tomb before running out of the building and locking the doors behind him.

* * *

"Ugh, my head…" Inga groaned as he picked himself up off the ground. "Damn Dhurke, knocking me out like a coward! I'll show him what happens when he messes with me!"

Though when the Minister of Justice flung open the sarcophagus' curtain to confront his hated adversary, instead of finding Dhurke, he found Maya's soiled outfit.

"Dammit! He… No, she… No, he… Argh!" Inga roared in frustration. "Dhurke's escaped in the medium's body! I've gotta get down to the Ministry of Justice and rally the boys!" The Minister proclaimed as he rushed over to the tomb's doors, only to find that they were locked.

"No, no, no!" Inga yelled as he repeatedly pushed against the large wooden doors. "They can't be locked! Unless…" The distraught Minister of Justice reached into his pockets and realized that the key to the tomb's entrance was stolen. "DHURKE!" Inga screamed before delivering a powerful punch to the door.

Knowing that knocking down the tomb's doors would be a dead giveaway to his plans, Inga was left with no other choice but to call Reesig and have him come by to help him. Though when the Minister called his subordinate, he wasn't greeted with the warmest of responses.

"Minister Inga, where have you been?! We've been trying to contact you for the last seven hours!" Reesig snapped.

"In Amara's Tomb. Dhurke locked me in here after knocking me out and escaping with my hostage! So hurry over and use that spare key I made for you to get me outta here!" Inga angrily ordered.

"As much as I'd love to help you out, Minister Inga, my hands, as well as those of every other officer in Khura'in's, have been full investigating the Defiant Dragon's recent television hijacking!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the phone! What hijacking?"

"Look, Minister Inga, I can't really talk right now. If you want to find out more about it, it's on the news." Reesig curtly stated before ending the call.

Following his subordinate's advice, Inga turned on the television and saw, much to his horror, footage depicting the new early morning special of _The Plumed Punisher_ being cutoff mid-episode and being replace with Dhurke sitting in a dark room with Datz at his side talking about how the Defiant Dragons had the Founder's Orb and were going to topple the Ga'ran regime.

"Dammit!" Inga roared, punching the self-righteous rebel leader's face on the screen. "First the Defiant Douche takes my key and locks me in here, then he steals my television special that I've been working on for three weeks, and now he's trying to steal my orb and ruin my one shot of finally getting rid of Ga'ran!? When will you stop torturing me, Dhurke?!" Inga yelled at the unyielding rebel's face as he continued his message. "WHEN!?"

As Inga seethed with rage, his fingernails digging into the television screen, he was broken out of his anger spell by his cellphone ringing, which he wasted no time in answering.

"What?" The Minister of Justice hissed through clenched teeth.

"Uh, Minister Inga, this is Yoo'ere Pi'lat, the pilot that you hired to fly your new personal plane that was just completed yesterday."

"Look pal, I'm not in the mood for this! So either tell me something that I don't know or end this call before I put your name at the top of my execution list!" Inga snarled, his voice slightly muffled from how hard he was biting down on his cigar stamp.

"W-Well, You see, I have good news, and… not-so-good news." Yoo'ere nervously stated.

"Alright, what's the good news?"

"Your new private plane is in perfect working order and is ready to fly at any time!" The pilot proudly proclaimed.

"And the bad news?" Inga asked, a hint of apprehension present in his voice.

"Before I tell you, Minister Inga, I want you to know that airport security and I did everything in our power to stop them, but they were just too strong and-"

"What happened?" Inga slowly asked.

"Dhurke and Datz… kind of… flew off in the plane. We tried to call the police, but they were all busy with the Defiant Dragons hijacking the new _Plumed Punisher_ special. I am so, so sorry about this, Minister Inga! I hope you can find it in your heart not to execute me…! Minister Inga, you've gone silent. Are you still there? Minister…?"

Inga dropped the phone to the ground as his body became as stiff and motionless as a statue, with the exception of his slightly twitching left eye, as thoughts of pure hatred for Dhurke began to swirl around in his mind like an angry whirlpool. And while Inga would normally be the type to let out his rage in the form of a heated tirade regarding the offending person, this time Dhurke had pushed him too far, leaving the irate Minister so overwhelmed with fury that he could not find the words to properly express it. But after about a minute of complete silence, Inga finally found his voice.

"DHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRKKKKKKEEEEE!" The Minister of Justice screamed at the top of his lungs while stomping on the unyielding rebel's corpse with every ounce of his strength. "Try all ya want, you filthy son of a Ga'ran, but you will never defeat Minister Inga! NEVER!" Inga roared as he delivered one final swift kick to Dhurke's jaw.


	12. A Tearful Reunion

**A/N:** Here it is, the final chapter of _The Imperial Daddy_. I can't believe that I'm actually posting this. It feels like just yesterday when I was playing through _Turnabout Revolution_ and the idea to start this fanfic popped into my head. And never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that an idea that literally came to me in the middle of the night right when I was falling asleep would turn into a story that so many people would love.

I just want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this story, as well as the people who have commented on it, for supporting it. I thoroughly enjoyed writing each and every chapter of this story, and that feeling of enjoyment was only amplified knowing that all of you great readers were enjoying it!

I hope this last chapter proves to be a satisfying end for this story and I hope that you all will be just as receptive to the story that will replace this one.

* * *

The Twilight Realm isn't like the typical depictions of the afterlife that most people are familiar with. It isn't some paradise in the clouds where people joyfully frolic about while being watched over by a giant beaded man. Rather, the Twilight Realm is a land unlike anything comprehendible by mere mortals- a vast space of nothingness with a coloration resembling that of the loveliest sunset you could possibly imagine- hence the name- as far as the eye could see. And even though there isn't any sun present, the dimension is bathed in a warming light that soothes the soul of every resident. The Twilight Realm is a land of perfection, with the only questionable thing being a miniscule black dot that can be seen in the far distance no matter where you are, but the souls of the deceased don't mind this, for there they are at peace.

Once again going against common belief, in the Twilight Realm, souls do not resemble their human bodies from when they were alive, instead taking on the form of massless balls of energy. For what is the point of a soul- an eternal entity- retaining the form of a mere shell in the time before it is reincarnated anew? That is why souls in the Twilight Realm float about the dimension with much joy, some slowly to soak in the ambiance and other frantically and playfully like forest pixies, enjoying their freedom from corporeal existence. But if a soul is summoned to the Land of the Living by a spirit medium, then they have no choice but to comply and take on the human form, and memories associated with it, of the person being requested.

This is Inga's current existence after Ga'ran murdered him, and he is enjoying it. Sure, getting stabbed in the back and dying was almost as painful as almost three decades worth of psychological and sexual torture, but now, the former Minister of Justice is feeling a sense of happiness that he hasn't felt in many years. Without the limits of his body, Inga doesn't have to deal with his agonizing back pain. But the best part is that his ex-wife is still in the Land of the Living and will probably never get into the Twilight Realm when she dies after usurping the throne and all the unspeakable acts she did to him over the years, so the deceased former minister could breathe easy in knowing he would never have to exist in the same dimension as the woman who ruined his life ever again.

However, despite the immense joy Inga is now feeling, he can't help but feel a bit sad. While it's great not having Ga'ran breathing down his neck or any other part of his body, how could the former Minister of Justice truly enjoy himself without his precious daughter at his side? Inga can't help but be overwhelmed with sorrow at the thought of how Rayfa is handling his death.

Sure, Rayfa may try to act tough, but Inga knows better than anyone that deep down, his daughter is a sweet girl who loves her father more than anything. For all the former Minister of Justice knows, his little princess could be lying in her bed, crying her eyes out and refusing to eat, or she could be assaulting several servants in a fit of rage, or… No, no… Inga can't bring himself to even think about that final possibility- the possibility of Ga'ran, no longer seeing any use in Rayfa and feeling herself lacking any threats after his death, having the poor girl executed for lacking the proper spiritual power befitting of the Royal Priestess. Curse the Twilight Realm for being unable to show its denizens what's happening in the Land of the Living! For all Inga knows, his daughter could be already dead and has been aimlessly wandering around the Twilight Realm trying to find him.

But it's during one of these fits that Inga sees a rift forming before him, a tear in space that's expelling a golden light that proceeds to draw him towards it. Understandably, the former Minister of Justice tries to fight the rift's pull, attempting to float away from it as fast as his spiritual form can move, but despite his best efforts, Inga is sucked into the rift and enveloped by the golden light.

The next thing the former Minister of Justice knows, he's in his private quarters, which have been emptied of all furniture with the exception of his bed, which he is currently laying on.

"I'm… I'm in my room…" Inga says with a sigh of relief. "I'm not dead! It was all just one bad dream…! Crap! I've gotta go get the Founder's Orb from Dhurke!"

The former Minister of Justice proceeds to quickly get up off of the bed and tries to make a beeline dash for the door, only to be stopped by a small, soft hand gently gripping his- obviously Rayfa's. And sure enough, when Inga turns to face the hand's source, he looks down to see Rayfa staring up at him with big, tear-filled eyes, sniffling and biting her lip in an attempt to keep herself from crying.

"That… That wasn't a dream. You really were stabbed in the back before your meeting." Rayfa says in a pained toned, her gaze pointed towards the ground.

"Darn it!" Inga yells, hitting his bed in frustration. "I always knew your mother would be the death of me! If only I coulda stayed alive for a few more seconds so I could repay the favor!"

"You knew?" Rayfa said with a shocked look.

"This is your mother we're talking about. Anytime I'm feeling happiness, she makes it her mission to snuff it out at all costs. So it's no surprise that when I'm preparing to have my moment of triumph over that mook Dhurke, she decides to ensure I never feel happy ever again. Plus, Dhurke's not the kind of guy who goes around stabbing people in the back."

"You… You don't have to lie to me anymore…" Rayfa says, turning her back to the man she once saw as her father.

"Whaddya mean?" Inga asks before grabbing his daughter by the shoulder and turning her around before kneeling down to look her in the eye. "I may have done a lot of rotten stuff during my life, but I'd never lie to you, Rayfa."

"After your death, I learned the truth… Uncle."

"No… No...!" Inga gasps as he reels back, his head spinning from the fact that his worst fear has become reality: Rayfa has learned that Dhurke is her real father. "Tell me that you're only kidding, Rayfa! Tell me that this is a bad joke, see!" The former Minister of Justice growls through clenched teeth.

"Do you think I want to believe this, Uncle?" Rayfa angrily retorts with crossed arms, flashing her uncle an icy glare. "Do you think that I enjoy the fact that I have been deceived for 14 years by the man who I thought was my father?!"

"Rayfa…" Inga sullenly whispers, softly stroking his daughter's cheek with the back of his hand, only to be immediately swatted away.

"Don't you touch me with your dirty, deceiving hands, you… you… jerk!" Rayfa snarls with clenched fist and cheeks red with rage.

"Rayfa, please…" Inga pleads, his eyes filled with sorrow as his adopted daughter takes a step back.

"If it wasn't bad enough that I had to learn you lied to me for my entire life _after_ performing your Divination Séance, I found out that the gentle man who I so deeply trusted was an aspiring usurper- having Head Monk Andistan'dhin steal the Founder's Orb for you, kidnapping that spirit medium to channel the Holy Mother so She could grant you limitless spiritual power, and killing my real father in cold blood!"

"Rayfa, please hear me out…"

"And hear what? How you did what you did for power and your reputation?! I know that you always hated your marriage to Aunt Ga'ran, but…" The young girl whimpers, the fires of rage that were roaring within her being replaced by somber waves of sorrow as her shoulders slump over, tears filling her emerald eyes. "But I always thought that you saw me as a daughter and loved me as such, not as some kind of stepping stone. Is that… Is that why you were always so nice to me, because one mention of my true lineage could have Aunt Ga'ran removed from power?"

Upon hearing Rayfa accuse him of not truly loving her, Inga does something that no one had ever seen him do since he married Ga'ran: he cries. Oh, how the tears stream down the former Minister of Justice's face as he wipes them off with a swipe of the robe he's currently wearing, which only makes his crying worse. If it wasn't bad enough that his adoptive daughter sees him as some heartless monster, Inga has to deal with this torture while being in Amara's body, the woman who made all of this suffering possible.

"Uncle, are you… crying?" Rayfa asks in a mixed tone of confusion and awe, reluctantly taking a single step towards the weeping channeled spirit.

"What! Since when is it a crime for a man who's been tortured for more than half his life before being murdered to cry?!" Inga snarls, scowling at his adopted daughter with bloodshot eyes.

"No, it's just that I've never imagined you were capable of it. You always appeared so confident and beyond such emotions."

"Well, things change when you die trying to give your child a better life, only to find out that they hate your guts." Inga morosely sighs, taking a seat on his mattress and resting his jaw on his hands as he gazes at the ground.

"What do you mean, Uncle?"

"I admit that I had the Founder's Orb stolen and kidnapped that Fey girl so I could get the spiritual power housed within it. But I didn't do it for myself…" Inga looks up at his adopted daughter. "I did it for you."

"You did?" The princess asks with a surprised look on her face. "But how do I know that you're not lying?"

"Rayfa, you probably figured it out when you saw my final moments during the trial, but I could never remember faces for the life of me. See, they all looked the same to me. And even though I can truly appreciate your cute, sweet, little face while being channeled by your birth mom, back when I was living, I would have never been able to channel spirts to save my life no matter how much spiritual power the Holy Mother gave me. That, and all those fundamentalists running the temple wouldn't be too keen on a man who can channel spirits ruling over the nation."

"I guess you have a point…" Rayfa says with a hint of regret in her voice, obviously guilty for jumping to conclusions and hurting the man who raised her.

"Plus, even if I did gain the ability to flawlessly channel spirits and was able to ascend to the throne with no issues, I would have never gone through with it because I care about you too much. I 've seen how dedicated you are to mastering your spiritual powers, and I know that if you saw your previously-powerless father becoming king after your mother's 'untimely' death, you would have been devastated. So from the very start, my plan was to have the Holy Mother amplify your already-formidable powers and make 'em even stronger. That way, after your aunt was taken outta the picture thanks to a poison I would have concocted with common household cleaning products, no one would object to you becoming queen, taking on all of the spiritual stuff, while I handle all the political affairs, both inside and outside the country."

"Do you really mean that, Uncle?" Rayfa asks, putting a hand on Inga's shoulder as a glimmer of hope fills her eyes.

"I've never been more honest and sure about anything in my life… well, except for that one time I tried to send your aunt back to the States with some weird chief prosecutor guy with goggles who proceeded to laugh in my face and compare me to his idiot son."

"In that case, Barbed Head owes me an apology." Rayfa smirks.

"Why? Did that mook insult your abilities again?" Inga growls.

"No, Uncle. When we were investigating your private quarters, I told Barbed Head exactly what you told me, that you stole the Founder's Orb for my sake, but he just shrugged it off and kept insisting that you were out only for yourself. Everyone was so adamant about you being a power-hungry tyrant during your trial that even I started to have my doubts…" The young princess says, eyeing the ground with a look of shame.

"Don't blame yourself, Rayfa…" The former Minister of Justice states in a reassuring tone, putting a gentle hand on his adopted daughter's shoulder as he gets up off of the mattress. "You were hit with a lot of truths all at once and your world was all shaken up. I'd react the same way if I were in your shoes."

"But now that you've told me your intentions regarding your plan, I will waste no time in using Horned Head's phone to contact Barbed Head and give him such a verbal lashing that he will wish he was never born." Rayfa sneers.

"That's my girl!" Inga chuckles as he hugs his adopted daughter. After the embrace, Inga keeps his hands on Rayfa's shoulders as he kneels down to look her in the eye. "Now listen Rayfa, I may not be your real dad, but you've always been and always will be my daughter. See, your aunt never wanted to have kids, even after becoming queen, saying that she would have no child ruining her 'perfect' body- which is like worrying about the paint flaking off a dilapidated building that's literally falling apart. But then one fateful day after Dhurke fled the palace with your real mom, we found her, and with her was a baby girl… you…"

Inga pauses to sigh, wiping away a tear forming in his eye.

"Your aunt forced a lot of things on me- sappy romance movies, bland cereals, and horrible, horrible bedroom experiences too twisted and sick to even think about- but her telling me that we'd be raising you as our daughter was the only one I actually liked. And when I held you in my arms for the first time, hearing that little giggle of yours as you tugged on my beard, I vowed that I would love, care, and protect you as if you were my own flesh and blood. That's one reason why I was always so determined to have Dhurke arrested and/or killed. I was afraid that he would one day come to the palace and tell you the truth, and that you'd… you'd... you'd run off and forget all about me." The former Minister of Justice morosely states, feeling as if his words are trapped in his throat like a lump.

"Uncle…" Rayfa whimpers with a small smile on her face, tears forming once more in her eyes. Only this time, these aren't tears of anger or sadness, but rather joy- the joy in knowing that the man who she views as her father loves her more than she could possibly imagine.

Uncle and niece, father and adopted daughter, begin to hug once more, each savoring the warm embrace of the other in their arms. Though this touching moment doesn't last long, for Rayfa begin to notice that Inga's body is starting to glow, slowly transitioning back and forth between his form and Amara's.

"Uncle, what's happening?" The young princess asks in a startled tone.

"I guess Amara feels that it's time for me to go back to the Twilight Realm…" Inga sighs with a look of resignation.

"No, you can't leave! There's still so much that I want to say!" Rayfa pleads as she bursts into tears, clinging to the former Minister of Justice's shoulders for dear life.

"Don't start with the waterworks, Rayfa, 'cause if you start crying, then I'll get sad, see? I don't wanna leave either, but just remember that I'll always be with you and…" Inga grunts as the light surrounding his body shines brighter, his ability to stay in the Land of the Living slowly slipping away from him along with his strength. "I… love… you…"

With those final words, Inga loses consciousness, lying limply in his daughter's arms with closed eyes like a ragdoll as the light becomes so bright that he can no long be seen, the weight of his body causing the girl to fall back onto the bed with him on top of her.

"No, Uncle…! FATHER!" Rayfa shrieks, warm tears streaming down her cheeks as the light diminishes, revealing Amara's regular form and only that.

"Father…" Rayfa mutters under her breath with a sniffle as Amara regains consciousness and sits up.

"So Rayfa, did you gain the closure that you desired with your uncle?" Amara calmly asks, stroking the back of her daughter's head as the young girl sits up with her shoulders hunched over.

"Yes, Mother. But would you be offended if I were to refer to Uncle Inga as my father, even after learning the truth?"

"Not at all. But do you mind if I ask what brought this on all of a sudden? For just this morning, you were crying about how your entire life was a lie and how your uncle's sins against the Holy Mother were unforgivable."

"I admit that Father did many horrible deeds over the course of his life, but he was still my father who loved me with all of his heart. He always made it a point to put me first, even when he was planning to overthrow Aunt Ga'ran. And I know that this may sound childish and clichéd, but he was truly an imperial daddy… _MY_ imperial daddy!" Rayfa proclaims before bursting into tears and burying her face in the crook of her mother's neck, who proceeds to gently pat her daughter on the back as the young girl cries her eyes out.

 **The End**


End file.
